Little Witches
by shewhoguards
Summary: In order to understand how things are now, sometimes we must look at them before they got broken. A look at the Black family, in the days before it fell apart.
1. Chapter 1

"I still don't like him. I can't see why you can't just go to the Dance with someone else - _anyone_ else!"

"Because Ted is the one who asked," Andromeda replied simply. The excitement of the Headmaster was to have the treat of a Hogsmeade Dance had been only slightly dulled by her younger sister's complaints about her choice of partner. She stepped back, eyeing her younger sister's dress speculatively. "I _think_ that's all the stains out. See any more?"

Narcissa shook her head, swinging her legs as she sat on the bed, face sulky. "It's not like you're not pretty enough for a million others to ask you if you waited. He just happened to ask first."

The implication was of course that she should have higher standards somehow rather than appear so desperate to take the first offer that came her way.

"Yes, dear. And considering how you and Bella would have reacted if he'd asked you, I thought that was very brave of him," Andromeda said calmly. The dark-haired girl seemed supremely unbothered by her sister's irritation, smoothing the silk of the dress. "I think that'll do just nicely. Next time, _do_ try not to pack your ink right next to your best dress and you won't have such problems. Now, let me see your hair."

The younger girl's frown didn't lift as she unpinned her hair, letting the long fair locks fall freely. "Well, of _course_ we'd have told him where to go. He's a filthy Mudblood, and we're ... "

For the first time, Andromeda turned to face her, raising her eyebrows at her sister. "Don't use that word, dear. It's not a very nice word, especially not for a lady."

"Bella does."

"Well, you're not Bella," Andromeda returned calmly, privately glad that her older sister had by now moved on from Hogwarts. If Cissy was sulky and awkward about her choice for the Dance, Bellatrix would have been five times as difficult to deal with.

"It's going to be so _embarrassing_. You'll be there with him, and everyone will _know_ you're my sister." Narcissa glared at her, squirming as Andromeda started to work on her hair with gentle fingers.

"And do you suppose they'll be thinking about that? No, they'll be thinking 'There's Narcissa Black, _isn't_ she beautiful with her lovely dress and her hair all done up like that. I surely wish I'd asked her to the Dance, instead of … '" Andromeda paused. "Who is it you're going with again?"

"Lucius Malfoy." Narcissa gave the answer sulkily, stubbornly resisting her sister's attempts to cheer her out of her mood.

"That boy with the long blond hair? Year above you?" Andromeda asked, and Narcissa nodded. "Good choice. Very … elegant."

"And totally unlike your Ted," Narcissa shot back, unwilling to give up the argument. "Do you even know what his parents _do_ in the Muggle world? They're probably farmers or miners or something horrible and smelly like that."

"His father is a postman, I believe," Andromeda said mildly. "And his mother works in an office – something to do with imports and exports. Nothing very exciting, but both respectable enough professions among Muggles."

"Postman?" Narcissa sneered. "How stupid do you have to be to get stuck doing the job an _owl_ could do?"

Andromeda raised her eyebrows again, this time setting the hairbrush down. "If you're going to be nasty and spiteful about it, Cissy, I'll leave you to do your _own_ hair," she threatened. "See how much Lucius likes you when you've got a bird's nest sitting on top of your head. And I could make that literal you know."

"Fine. I'm _sorry_." The apology was given reluctantly, and Narcissa squirmed on the bed. "Come on, Andromeda, no-one does a Curling Charm as well as you do."

"I still don't know why you _want_ curls in the first place." But Andromeda relented with a sigh, picking up the brush again. For a moment she considered a bird's nest with a host of chirping baby birds would be an interesting transfiguration to perform. Still, best not to upset Narcissa like that. "Fair hair Bella and I would kill for, and you crave ringlets of all things." She tapped her sister's head lightly with the wand, watching as the locks of hair twisted under her touch.

"Curls are _sophisticated,_" Narcissa pronounced firmly, relaxing and finally allowing the subject to drop. "Also, Lucius likes them."

As if that was the only reason to do anything. Andromeda managed to smile anyway – there was more to life than impressing boys. But there was little point suggesting that to her vain little sister.

"And this is my little sister, Narcissa, and Lucius Malfoy." Despite Narcissa's determination to stay far away from her sister if she _insisted_ on going to the Dance with that boy, the room was only so big and sooner or later it was going to be impossible to avoid bumping into each other.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure." Ted's tone was polite, but something about the expressions of the younger couple made his lips twitch, struggling to hide his amusement. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you step in something bad?" he asked mildly.

Narcissa's stare was icy, blue eyes flickering accusingly to her sister. If Andromeda _must_ accompany someone like that to the dance, the very _least_ she could do was to keep him away from people she was trying to _impress_. "I don't think so," she said frostily.

Lucius' eyes were flickering up and down Ted, lips settling into a studied smirk as he weighed the other boy up. "Fascinating," he said, as though Ted were a particularly interesting specimen of some rare animal. "Tell me, is it true that you Muggle-borns actually have to do your _own_ housework, because you can't afford house-elves to do it?"

"More or less, yes," Ted agreed calmly. "Is it true that you Malfoys have got so inbred over the years that you all have seven toes? I've always wondered about that."

Narcissa gave a thin hiss of outrage, and Lucius flushed red, his fingers twitching towards his wand.

"Mind you, your shoes don't _look_ big enough to hold seven toes," Ted went on in that same mild tone, glancing down. "Of course, you know what they say about men with small feet …"

Andromeda felt her lips twitch treacherously and swallowed the desire to laugh, grabbing Ted hastily by the arm and pulling him away. Her parents would probably not be pleased if her dance partner and Lucius managed to get into a duel right in the middle of the dance floor.

Ted winked once at Narcissa, much to the girl's outrage, and allowed himself to be tugged away, following Andromeda to the edge of the dance.

"I hate to point this out to you, Andromeda," he remarked, once they were safely away, "but your little sister is something of a snob. And she's dancing with a worse one."

Andromeda turned to him, struggling to look annoyed, and mostly failing. "Do you _always_ try to seek out the most powerful person in the room to insult, or do you sometimes settle for the second most powerful?"

"Oh, I never settle for second-best," he assured her of that gravely, his eyes resting on Andromeda this time. He gave her a slow, lazy smile, and she felt herself blush. "Not in _anything_."

"Don't tease Cissy," she warned, before the scolding could go out of her head, even as she tried to dismiss the compliment as nonsense. "And really, don't mess with Lucius. His family …"

"I'll be good," Ted promised, though his words were said with a twinkle that said that promise just might be broken. "And let's not deal with family tonight. Come and dance."

He grinned at Andromeda again, and slipped his arm around her waist, twirling her back into the whirl of laughter, lights and music, dancing with bright eyes, warm smiles and thistledown steps until she decided breathlessly that if it were a choice between elegance and this, Narcissa could _keep_ elegant.

"So girls, how was school?"

The first meal back at home was always something to be tolerated and endured rather than enjoyed. Later on there would be private welcoming backs, little one-on-one catch-ups on news, but that first dinner always had so many people that it was simply impossible to please all of them.

"Fine." Andromeda swallowed her mouthful quickly, glancing towards her father. "Just … normal, you know?"

"Cissy?" Cygnus Black pushed gently when his youngest daughter failed to answer. "How are your Potions marks going? Better, I hope."

Narcissa flushed guiltily red, taking sudden intense interest in the contents of her plate. "Uh … "

"Does that interpret as a 'no'?" Cygnus asked astutely, and sighed. "You know, Narcissa, you're not a stupid girl. If you would only _apply_ yourself …"

"I do!" Narcissa protested at that, looking up indignantly. "I told you. I work _hard!"_

"If you work hard, then where are the results?" It was her mother's turn to chip in now, and Andromeda darted a sympathetic look at her sister. It was always the same – it always had to be _one_ of them getting it in the neck. Just Narcissa's bad luck that it was her turn.

"Your _sister_ was getting _awards_ in Potions at your age." And that was Aunt Walburga, feeling the urge to add in her two pennies as always.

Narcissa glanced at Bellatrix resentfully, her voice falling into a sulky whine, and a frown that spoiled her appearance. "Yes, well, we can't _all_ be workaholic geniuses."

"I'm not asking you to be a genius, I'm asking you to try studying now and then." Cygnus' voice was severe. "You have your O.W.L.s coming up, young lady, and you can't afford to keep just messing around with your studies."

"I don't mess around!" Narcissa glanced about the table, surrounded by unsympathetic faces. "For Merlin's sake, it's not like I'm _failing_! I'm just not _brilliant_…"

"Mind your language!" Cygnus could be unrelenting at times. "We pay good money to send you to that school, Narcissa, and you _persist_ on wasting it by spending your time worrying more about your hair and boys than you do about your grades."

"My grades are _fine!_" Narcissa's voice was rising now, angry and upset. "And I don't see why _I_ get picked on for being obsessed with boys when _she … " _she jabbed a finger angrily in Bellatrix's direction, "is obsessed with some awful _old_ guy who looks like he's made of wax, and _she _… " a finger-stab towards Andromeda this time, "is seeing a _Mudblood_ of all things."

Andromeda froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. It was Bellatrix who reacted first, turning to give her fair-haired little sister a resounding slap across her face, her expression dark with anger. "How _dare_ you!"

"Well, it's true!" Narcissa shoved back at her. "At least _Lucius_ is a normal person who looks like he's _human _…"

"That's quite enough of that, I think." Aunt Walburga's voice was crisp. "Cygnus, it would reflect better on you if you could teach your daughters not to behave like little animals at the dinner table. What kind of manners they're teaching at Hogwarts these days, I don't know. Narcissa, go to your room as you are clearly incapable of conducting yourself in a proper manner in public. Bellatrix, calm yourself or you can do the same."

As Narcissa turned and flounced away in a tearful teenage huff, Andromeda made to follow her. "I'll just check she's okay."

"You, young lady, will sit right back in that chair and tell us what your sister meant by that remark." Getting away easily, it seemed, was too much to hope for. Walburga directed a glare at her that was made all the more formidable by the decades of practice spent perfecting it. "And I should hope it's a _good_ explanation."

It was another hour before Andromeda was allowed to get away, and then she too was sent to her room in disgrace. She flopped onto the bed, trying to gather the energy to unpack, resisting the urge to figure out just how many hours it was before Christmas break would be over and she could return to Hogwarts.

There was a tap on the door.

"Come i-" Andromeda began, and then couldn't resist smiling as the door opened and a small figure stepped in. "You know, you're meant to wait until I _tell_ you to come in."

"Much less interesting that way," Sirius retorted cheerfully. He took a deep breath, and then began, "Narcissa's crying in her room, Bellatrix is threatening to curse her hair into falling out if she ever dares to speak of You-Know-Who like that again, _and_ to curse whoever you're seeing with the pox. Your parents are despairing of all three of you, and Mother says that you're a disgrace and a waste of every opportunity you've ever been given. Oh, and Regulus is howling." He grinned at his cousin, face so bright that it was hard to resist laughing. "Merry Christmas?"

"Sounds like life as usual in the House of Black." Andromeda found herself chuckling despite her determination to stay angry at her family for at least the rest of the evening. "Why is Regulus crying?"

"Probably because I punched him for calling you a filthy blood traitor," Sirius explained, his tone unrepentant as he eyed Andromeda's trunks, and moved towards them at a speed only given to the young and greedy. "Did you bring me any good presents?"

"There's something from Honeydukes in one of the trunks. I don't remember which." It was enough encouragement for her to get up, frowning as she opened the first trunk, sorting through neatly folded clothes. "And you shouldn't punch your brother."

"He's an annoying little know-it-all." Sirius was less patient about unpacking, and Andromeda clicked her tongue a little disapprovingly as the ten-year-old dug through the second trunk, crumpling clothes as he sought for something bearing the Honeydukes' label.

"That's all part of being a younger sibling, sadly. Don't mess those up, it took ages to pack them right." Andromeda twitched her wand, sorting the things Sirius had dumped onto the floor into neat piles. "And he's smaller than you."

"He's _still_ an annoying little know-it-all." Finally locating the desired bag at the bottom of the trunk, Sirius cheered quietly to himself, tugging it out. "When _I_ go to Hogwarts, I'm going to learn how to turn him into a _frog_."

"No, you are not. And you aren't meant to have those until Christmas Day, strictly speaking." Andromeda held out her hand. "Give it here."

The boy's face fell, and he clutched the bag tightly with both hands, "Aw, come on, Andromeda. You _know_ anything we open on Christmas Day we'll have to share, and by the time it's gone around the whole family, there's never anything _left_."

"You are a greedy little pig, and it would do you no harm at all to share a little more," Andromeda told her small cousin without malice. "Also, that bag's not all for you. Give it here."

Reluctantly, Sirius passed the bag to her, only to break into a grin again, as Andromeda tossed a chocolate frog in his direction. "Catch!"

"Thanks, Andromeda!" The frog croaked, squirmed, and tried to escape from his grasp, but Sirius' hands had already closed firmly around it.

Andromeda laughed, and glanced down at the bag in her hand thoughtfully, "How long do you think it'll be before I can get away with sneaking out to see Narcissa?"

"Depends if Kreacher's sneaking around. I can distract him if you like?" Sirius offered, happily pulling a leg off the frog.

She shook her head. "No, Sirius. It's not kind to torment the house-elves."

"Oh," the boy considered, idly dismembering his unlucky sweet. "Probably another hour then. By then I should think Mother will have found something else to annoy her."

In the end, Andromeda gave it two hours before she slipped along to see her sister. It seemed better to play it safe.

"Go away!" The voice that shouted through the door was sullen and tearful still, but Andromeda ignored it, pushing the door open.

"If you come in, I'll curse you, and I don't care if it _is_ under-aged mag- oh, it's you." The face that looked up from the pillow was not Narcissa's best. Tear-stains and swollen eyes didn't tend to work well with fair skin. "I thought it was Bella again."

"Lucky for you it wasn't. Try that on Bella, and she really _will_ curse your hair into falling out," Andromeda said placidly, moving to sit on the bed. "You'll have to work on your curses if you want that to actually sound frightening, Cissy, love." She gestured to the bag. "I come bearing peace-offerings of chocolate."

"I hate this whole family, and I wish I was _dead_," The younger girl declared passionately, before sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face. "What sort of chocolate?"

"Honeydukes' finest." Andromeda tossed her a bar, and pulled a bar out for herself. Chocolate might not cure all ills - just minor afflictions and after effects of the Dark Arts, but it could certainly help a little. "And there's no need to be so melodramatic, Miss I-Hate-Everybody. For that matter, _I_ should be the one in a snit, not you."

"Yeah. Uh, sorry about that," Narcissa apologised grudgingly, peeling the foil off her bar carefully. "But you know they would have found out sooner or later anyway. "

"I suppose so." Andromeda didn't look up at her younger sister, focusing on the chocolate. It was hard to blame Narcissa for what she knew had been said in no more than a moment's temper, but still. She had been well and truly dropped in it from an exceptionally great height.

"And it's not as if you were going to go on seeing him much longer, was it?" Narcissa went on. "I mean, I'm sure he was fun to mess around with and stuff, and you certainly managed to shock practically the whole of Slytherin, but you've done that now. You've got the attention, and you know, '_my family says no_' is actually a really good way to let him drop if you don't want to feel mean." She glanced over at Andromeda. "Not that he doesn't _deserve_ a bit of meanness after what he said to Lucius, but you've never been good at that."

Andromeda's lips twitched at that, trying not to grin at the memory of Lucius' outrage. "You have to admit, Lucius pretty much asked for it though."

"Andro_meda!"_ Narcissa looked a little shocked. "Lucius is a _Malfoy!_ He oughtn't to have to put up with insults from sons of Muggles who've got all above themselves!"

"Lucius is very pretty, and _very_ rich, but he takes himself too seriously sometimes," Andromeda allowed, calmly. "It'll probably do him good to be taken down a peg or two. He shouldn't start with the comments if he can't take them in return."

Narcissa's pretty face set into a scowl, not quite agreeing with that sentiment. "Ted ought to be careful," she warned. "Lucius won't forgive that in a hurry."

"I'll warn him," Andromeda promised. "And _you_, dearest, need to go apologise to Bella at some point this evening."

"Do I _have_ to?" The younger girl's voice fell back into a whine. "_She_ started it."

"No, she didn't," Andromeda corrected calmly. "Aunt Walburga started it by comparing the two of you. It's hardly Bella's _fault _if she's terrifyingly smart." And powerful. She was under no illusions about who was the strongest of them all – at least in terms of magic. Or perhaps it was more the case that Bella was fearless in her use of magic; she never hesitated or doubted and that went a long way in achieving the correct end result.

"I suppose," Narcissa admitted grudgingly. "I still don't see why I should apologise after she slapped me though."

"You insulted the Dark Lord, so I'd say you two are pretty much even. You _know_ how she feels about him." Andromeda's voice turned coaxing, gentle. "Come on, Cissy. We're only _home_ for a few weeks, and it's going to be a miserable Christmas if you two are sniping at each other all the time."

"Fine," Narcissa conceded with a huff of breath. "Later, though?"

"Later," Andromeda agreed. "I'll go to speak to her first, make sure she's calmed down and won't _actually_ curse you." She leaned to kiss her sister's forehead lightly, leaving a chocolaty smudge against the fair skin, and stood up. "Feeling better now?"

"A bit better. Chocolate helped."

Andromeda laughed. "Chocolate usually does," she said lightly, before moving to push the door open.

Narcissa had been easy to talk out of her huff, but then Narcissa usually was. Bellatrix might be a touch harder.

"_GO __**AWAY!**_" The door knob on Bellatrix's door ordered, and when Andromeda reached to grasp it, formed itself into the shape of a mouth, sharp teeth snapping at the girl's fingers. "_NOTHING GOOD AWAITS YOU HERE!"_

Andromeda sighed, and tapped it calmly with her wand, waiting until it had returned to plain cool metal before she pushed the door open.

"You know, I thought Cissy was indulging in teenage melodrama, but you seem to have her beat," she remarked, shutting it behind her.

"I _hate_ this stupid family," Bellatrix scowled at her, refusing to be drawn into a smile, "And if you keep ignoring my _keep out_ signs, I'm going to get a Boggart to guard my door."

"No, you're not," Andromeda contradicted. "The sight of yourself as a Squib every time you had to pass it would creep you out too much." She sat down on the bed without waiting for an invitation, reaching to straighten Bellatrix's pillows. "Come on, Bella. You know Cissy didn't mean it. Walburga just has a talent for getting people worked up like that, and Father wasn't helping."

"She's a vacuous little twerp," Bellatrix maintained, dark features set into an angry frown.

"Well, yes, she can be," Andromeda admitted. "But she's fifteen; most kids are at that age. She's got time to grow out of that yet."

"Fifteen's more than enough time to start taking an interest in the world around her!"

"She's a _kid,_ Bella." It was easy to dismiss fifteen years old as being 'just a kid' once you had reached the mighty age of seventeen. "And yes, I know _you_ had Voldemort poster-portraits on your wall from when you were thirteen onwards, but you have to admit, at _least_ half of that was because he was so good-looking when he was younger."

"It was not!" Bellatrix protested.

Andromeda snickered, not bothering to hide her laughter. "Oh, come _on!_ Cissy and I used to hide and watch you talking to them! _How_ many times did you practise your acceptance for the day he would unexpectedly turn up at our door and ask Father for permission to marry you again?"

"Insufferable brats, the pair of you." Bellatrix made a face at her sister, but seemed to relax a little. "Fine, Cissy's excuse is that she's fifteen. What's your excuse for the Mudblood?"

Andromeda winced. "I wish you wouldn't use that word. I caught Cissy using it the other day, and Regulus will be using it next. You know how he looks up to you. You're his favourite role-model."

"So you're denying he's a -"

"I'm not denying anything – it's just not a very nice word to hear coming out the mouth of a nine-year-old!" And for once it was Andromeda who snapped, patience straining a little. "He's Muggle-born. It's not a big deal, whatever Aunt Walburga says."

"Not a big deal?" Bellatrix opened her dark eyes wide. "Is your next statement going to be to tell be that fire isn't really all _that_ hot? You're a Black girl, Andromeda. Do at least _try_ to act like one."

"It was only a dance. It's not like I'm going to _marry_ him!"

"I should hope not!" Bellatrix snapped, back into her bad temper by now. "But you might try to remember, Andromeda, that when you fool around like that, it does reflect on us too. Imagine the scandal it would cause if one of the papers heard of it!"

"It was a _dance_," Andromeda said wearily. "Just a silly school dance, that no-one who isn't actually _at_ Hogwarts will likely give more than two minutes thought to. He _asked_ me, and I could _see _him getting all ready to come back at him with some sarcastic remark when I said no. So I thought 'I'll show you', and I said yes. That's all."

Bellatrix blinked at her for a minute, running behind this rather confusing chain of logic.

"And I'm glad I did," Andromeda went on, "because he makes me laugh. And I'm not going to marry him, or do anything serious with him, but I just thought it would be _nice_ to play around like that for a little. Just for a while, just until I leave school, and have to go all serious when Mother and Walburga start lining up prospective husbands for me. I can't see how it's hurting anyone for me to have a little fun."

Bellatrix shook her head at her. "You don't know what you're playing with," she said more quietly. "If you want to have some fun, Andromeda, pick someone a bit more suitable to do it with. Otherwise, you might find that when they start looking for husbands for you, no-one will _want_ you."

"I don't see that anyone's going to pay any attention to school – "

"_Yes,_ they will pay attention to school! Don't you _listen_? Have you lost your senses entirely? Do you really think anyone from any of the _good_ families – the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Crouches – can you see _any_ of them wanting something a Mudblood's discarded?" Bellatrix rubbed her head with the palm of her hand, then glared at her sister. "Get out. You're giving me a headache."

"But - "

"Out!" Bellatrix made a shooing gesture towards her door. "If this house has to be filled with stupid kids, I can at least keep my _room_ free of them."

Andromeda sighed, and did as she was told, before Bellatrix started threatening to throw curses again. It seemed that this was one sister who wouldn't be won over by something so small as chocolate.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" Andromeda had just finally settled down to sleep when a light tap came on the door. Her mother pushed it open without waiting for an answer, and came to sit down by the bed. She was followed by a house-elf, struggling a little with a rather large tray.

The conversation with Bellatrix had been an awkward one, and Andromeda hesitated a second before answering with a mumbled "I'm awake," and sitting up again in bed.

"I thought you might be." Druella tapped the wall with her wand, and lit the room with a soft light. "You didn't eat much at dinner. I thought you might be hungry."

The truth was that the chocolate shared with Narcissa had quelled most of the hunger pangs. Still, it was a kind thought of her mother's, and there were some very good smells drifting from the house-elf's tray. "Thank you."

"Don't tell your aunt." Druella's smile was conspiratorial as she gestured to the elf. "I dare say she wouldn't approve. Still, you're _my_ daughter, not hers." There was a fierce possessiveness in that statement, and she sat down on the bed, smoothing the blankets that pooled around Andromeda as the girl sat up.

It was a kindness that served to rid Andromeda of any remnant of anger and resentment that the girl had been hanging on to. It was easy to fight when people gave you something to fight against, something to defy. It was much harder to be angry with someone who loved you enough to come and make sure that you were okay.

"Mother – about earlier, I'm sorry," she blurted. "I didn't mean – I wasn't really thinking that me dancing with Ted would _mean_ anything. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Druella sighed. "Well, we've had better homecomings," she admitted. "Still, what's done is done, and there's no point in crying about it now." She slipped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, giving Andromeda a warm hug. "I dare say that it'll be forgotten soon enough."

After her father's disappointment, Aunt Walburga's scolding, Narcissa's sulks and Bellatrix's disgust, it was a relief to have at least _one_ person brush the whole affair away as no more than a minor misdemeanour. Andromeda leaned against her mother gratefully. "Do you really think so?"

"Dearest, regardless of what your aunt may tell you when she's in a temper, regardless of how big and how bad things may ever seem to you, there is very little you could ever do wrong that we cannot fix, as long as you tell us." Druella soothed. "Except pregnancy of course." She paused a moment, rethinking that statement, blue eyes narrowing a little. "_Are_ you pregnant?"

Andromeda flushed, her own eyes widening in shock. "_Mother!_"

"Well, dear, it's hardly unknown in a seventeen-year-old," Druella said calmly. "And some of the stories you girls bring home about that school sometimes, I do wonder. Promise me you haven't done anything silly?"

"It was a _dance!"_ Andromeda insisted. "Unless you can get pregnant from dancing – and I don't think anyone's written _that_ charm yet – then no, I've done nothing like that."

Druella scrutinised her daughter's face a little longer, and then nodded, seeming relieved. "Well, I'm glad to hear it." She patted Andromeda's hand lightly. "You mustn't take all the shouting too seriously, dear. You three girls are very precious to us all, and we simply want to ensure that all three of you end up with someone who is worthy of you."

"I know. I'm sorry," Andromeda apologised again. "It just didn't seem such a big deal at the time. It was a dance, and he made me laugh and … " She shrugged dark shoulders helplessly. "I didn't think it would hurt anyone!"

"I know," her mother said sympathetically. "But Andromeda, sweetheart, I also know that at seventeen a good-looking young man or someone who makes you laugh can _so_ easily make you do more than you ever intended to. I want to see you grown up and happy, not stuck in a marriage to some awful Muggle-born wizard who can't afford to take care of you, or popping out Squibs who are neither use nor ornament to anybody."

"Mother, I swear we weren't going to _do_ anything!" Andromeda was flushed again. This was not a comfortable discussion to be having with a parent. That was a universal truth of being a teenager.

Druella laughed softly. "I believe you, Andromeda, I do, but if you only had any idea how many marriages and pregnancies began with the words 'I didn't mean to!' then you would understand why we all worry so much. Nobody ever means these things to happen, and yet it only takes one exciting night, one little slip, and it's too late to go back." She hesitated a moment, before adding, "And even if you _don't_ do anything, you should know, Andromeda, that there are some nasty people in the world, boys who will lie and say that you did. That's not a nice thing for a young girl to have on her reputation, deserved or not."

"I understand, Mother." Andromeda nodded obediently, mostly wanting nothing more than for this conversation to be _over _and willing to agree to pretty much anything to make that happen. "I won't let it happen again."

"There's my good girl." That seemed to satisfy Druella, and she squeezed her daughter's hand before standing up, "And if that boy gives you any trouble, don't be afraid to write and tell us, do you understand? We'll soon deal with him, if we have to." However they had to. The Black family had its own connections, and its own way of working after all. It would be a very foolish Muggle who tried to besmirch a Black girl's reputation.

"I will. I … I don't think he will though, Mother," Andromeda ventured cautiously, "I know he's got Muggle parents, but he did seem like a nice boy. I don't think he'd do anything _bad_."

"Oh, dear." Again, the laugh in her mother's voice. "When you're a little older, you'll discover that they're _all_ nice boys until they're not." She leant to drop a kiss onto her daughter's curls. "Sleep well, dearest. Leave the tray outside your room when you're done with it. The elves will take it."

"I will. Good night, mother."

And that, it seemed, was the last that would be said of that matter.

There are some routines followed, almost without exception, by almost all families with children, no matter whether those children are magically inclined or not.

It was roughly 6 am on Christmas morning that Sirius and Regulus were awake. It was not quite ten minutes before the rest of the house awoke, whether they liked it or not.

Andromeda lay in bed, eyes still shut, listening to the pair as they worked from door to door.

"Mother? Mother, _please_, we've been awake and waited patiently for _ages_, can't we get up now? Please? Father's awake already, aren't you, Father? Father, wake up. Please?"

"Uncle Alphard? Mother says we can get up and start opening things now. Won't you get up, only she says no-one can start until everyone's awake."

"Bella? We can – _ow!_ It is _not_ that early! That _hurt!_ I hope you don't even get anything then, you big meanie!"

That was Sirius by the sound of it, and Andromeda wondered sleepily what Bellatrix had done to him – and what he'd done to try and wake her up that deserved it.

The quiet knock on her door made her sit up, and she rubbed at her eyes, expecting to have her room invaded by a rambunctious pair of youngsters. "Come in!"

Instead, it was her mother that pushed the door open. "Either the children are awake, or the house has been invaded by some particularly noisy savages," she noted, smiling. Andromeda suspected her mother sometimes felt a little sad that her daughters were not also still at the age where Christmas morning meant whoops and shrieks of delight. Adulthood and dignity meant leaving some things behind. "I'd suggest you get up and dressed quickly."

Andromeda laughed, shaking off the last of her drowsiness and pushing back the sheets. "What did they do to Bella?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it involved water, the scamps." Druella shook her head. "One day, those two will push their luck too far. Hurry now, everyone's meeting downstairs."

Indeed, Christmas made the house even busier than usual. House-elves scuttled here and there, hurrying to bring coffee to the bleary-eyed adults. The actual gifts had been sorted by the elves the night before, a pile for each person. Regulus and Sirius were bouncing about it the middle of it all, for once too excited to quarrel, well aware that as the youngest of all present this was _their_ day and loving every moment of it.

Andromeda smiled to herself as she spotted her sisters off to the side – Bellatrix looking surly and sleepy-headed, Narcissa looking as though she were trying not to show her own glee, feeling that by now she should have "outgrown" Christmas and yet still greedily eyeing her own pile of gifts.

"This is ridiculous," Bellatrix muttered under her breath as she approached. "Surely those kids should have been trained by now to allow us all to sleep until a decent hour? Little hooligans, the pair of them."

"They're excited," Andromeda returned mildly. "Besides, it's only one morning a year."

"If Sirius wakes me next year the way he did this morning, I'll … I'll set fire to his pyjamas," Bellatrix said fiercely. "I _mean_ it!"

"By next Christmas, they'll probably have you married and not even _living_ here any more," Narcissa pointed out. The younger girl was poking at her pile, trying to feel through the gifts through the paper. "What do you think this is?"

"I don't know, but be careful," Andromeda advised. "Remember that year Aunt Walburga spelled all the gifts so that anything peeked at early automatically transfigured into a few lumps of coal? That never makes for a good Christmas."

It was enough of a warning for Narcissa to hastily snatch her hands back, clutching them behind her back as though to avoid temptation. She had not waited all this time for Christmas just to get _coal!_

Aunt Walburga's voice cut clearly through the bustle and chatter that filled the room. "If we can all settle down, and act like civilised human beings," she directed a pointed glare at her two sons, currently engaged in placing bets on who could eat the most chocolate without getting sick, "then we can begin opening the gifts."

Opening was done in a civilised manner of course. The Black family was big on being civilised. None of the allowing everybody to dive in and tear everything open at once, the way some families did – no, even the boys had to be patient, waiting their turn to open one gift at a time, thanking the giver and allowing the rest of the family to comment on it before handing on to the next person.

It wasn't as though Sirius and Regulus _minded_ that however. Once it was officially Christmas Day, the Christmas chocolate stores were opened and handed out. Between stuffing their faces and commenting on other people's gifts, the two boys were more than happy to occupy the time between opening their own.

One of Bellatrix's gifts drew particular attention. She had been asking for a new broomstick since leaving Hogwarts a year ago – her own had become worn and tattered through years of school use and storage. And now … it looked as though she'd got what she'd been asking for. She drew the long slender package from her pile carefully, slowly peeling the wrapping paper back.

"Just _tear_ it!" Sirius encouraged eagerly, fidgeting with impatience as her slowness.

"I'll help!" And Regulus actually reached forward to do so, agonized by the wait.

"Hush." And for once Bellatrix didn't scold them, only batting Regulus' fingers away lightly, her full attention on the broom in her hands.

"We thought it was time that you had a good broom," her father said quietly. "Now mind, that was _expensive_ – it's not like the schoolgirl's one you've got at the minute. We expect you to take good care of it. No going too fast except in emergencies, no drinking and flying, do you understand?"

"I know the _Tornado_'s not a racing broom," Druella agreed, "but we thought at your age you'd prefer something produced for endurance and, well, _looks_ than for silly sports. And you won't find a broom that gives you a much smoother ride than that one."

"I know." Bellatrix's earlier scorn about Christmas seemed to have vanished now. Her fingers moved almost reverentially over the broom, stroking gently over the oiled beech handle. "I'll take good care of it, I swear I will."

Cygnus cleared his throat, resting a hand lightly on his daughter's shoulder. "We thought that as it's likely you'll be leaving us shortly, it might be wise to give you a reliable way to get home."

Never a demonstrative man, this was perhaps the closest he would ever come to saying 'we'll miss you.'

"You're an adult now," Druella agreed. "But don't forget, Bella, even when you've left, even when you're married, you're still a Black. If you ever need to come home – for anything – don't hesitate."

"I will." Prickly about her independence as Bellatrix could be sometimes, today she set the broom down on the floor and stood to hug first her father, than her mother. "Thank you."

It was Christmas after all.

Unsurprisingly, the two youngest members of the family were untouched by the sentiment, however. They were more interested in inspecting the broom.

"It said in _Which Broomstick_ these could get up to a speed of 120mph in 7.8 seconds," Sirius commented, clearly impressed. "I bet you _could_ race on it, even if it's not meant to, really."

"Will you take me for a ride on it, Bella?" Regulus reached to touch the handle wonderingly. "Will you, please, please, please?"

"I most certainly will not!" It took all of two seconds for Bellatrix to return to her normal self, and snatch the stick out of their hands. "Get your horrible, chocolaty fingers off it! You'll leave _marks!_"

"Mother says it's nice to share," Sirius cajoled hopefully.

"No!"

It seemed that some miracles not even Christmas could bring about, and Bellatrix consenting to share her new broom was one of them. It had at least been worth a try, and the boys only sulked about it until someone reminded them it was their turn to open something else. And then for some reason, the matter seemed completely forgotten.

All in all, it hadn't been a bad Christmas break. A few squabbles, a few scoldings, but nothing more than could be expected as a natural result of cramming too many people into one house. There had been no great scandal other than Andromeda's dalliance with the Muggle-born, and that had died down after the first night when she showed no signs of melodramatically storming off to her room while declaring her great and undying adoration and writing letters full of bad poetry and unrequited love. However, she had caught Sirius looking for some just in case, more for blackmail material than anything else.

Really, as long as you didn't get stupidly defiant about things, the family usually moved on to the next piece of gossip and fuss relatively quickly.

The time had flown by, and Andromeda was neatly and methodically packing her things back into her trunks ready for the return to school when she heard quick footsteps outside her room, and the sound of two young voices raised in argument.

"You're going to get in _so_ much trouble, Sirius Black."

"Well, I'm not if no-one finds out, am I? I'll only be a minute."

"You oughtn't, though. I'll tell!"

"Aw, stop being such a little tattler."

The boys again, squabbling as usual. Andromeda hesitated a minute. She should go and separate them of course, before the argument turned to scuffling again, or before Sirius completed whatever mischief he was planning this time.

There was packing to do though, and amusing though they were, her young cousins seemed to positively _eat_ free time. The two continued on, out of hearing range, and after considering it for a moment Andromeda went back to folding her clothes. Whatever it was, it was likely to be harmless enough. Somebody else could sort it out.

She had almost forgotten the incident ten minutes later when a man's bellow came from underneath her window

"Young man, I suggest you get down from there _right now!_"

Glancing out to see just what was happening, Andromeda was quite surprised to find that most of the household – house-elves included – were gathered out there, faces turned to the sky.

She craned her head out of the window, trying to see just what it was they were actually looking at. She pulled it in only a moment later when a small figure, clutching a high powered and rather obviously Tornado broomstick shaft with a desperate grip, came perilously close to hitting her.

Well, _that_ explained what they had been arguing about at least.

"Sirius, get _down!"_ Uncle Orion, his father, repeated sharply. Beside him, Walburga stood, her expression furious as she watched her son's movements.

Looking towards the crowd that had gathered, Andromeda made out other faces. Regulus was snivelling quietly near his parents – she wondered if he had, after all, told or simply been caught and held responsible once his older brother took off. Her parents were shifting, looking upwards anxiously, eyes fixed on the small boy in the sky. Her sisters were there, too – Narcissa looking scandalised by the whole thing, Bellatrix seeming ready to explode with rage.

The broomstick whizzed past again. Andromeda winced, seeing it skim a little two close to the wall. Several twigs clattered down to the ground below.

"Young man," Orion bellowed again, "if you don't come down off your cousin's broom right this _instant _…"

"You'll do what? Shout some more?" And that was Bellatrix, crimson with rage as she interrupted, "Is anyone going to _do_ anything but shout, or are you just intending to wait until my broom falls to pieces underneath him?"

"Bella …" Cygnus' tone held gentle warning for his eldest daughter, but Bellatrix ignored him, striding forward, drawing her wand before anyone could stop her.

"_Stupefy!_" she commanded, and Andromeda glanced up as the small figure on the broom seemed suddenly to lose his grip and fall, tumbling helplessly towards the ground.

Somebody screamed. Andromeda wasn't sure who. Possibly Aunt Walburga.

It was Uncle Alphard who strode forward when everybody else seemed frozen, strong arms reaching for the boy, catching his young nephew before he could smash to the ground, pulling him in to his chest.

"Now then. Might want to wait until you've got your _own_ broom before you try that again," he commented, gently lowering Sirius to the ground. He tapped the boy lightly with his wand. "_Ennervate!"_

It was only a moment before Sirius opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet.The boy was white, and shaken by his fall, but he was alive and in one piece.

And possibly in more trouble than he'd ever been in his life before. Passengerless, the broom had returned to Bellatrix's hand, but that didn't seem to lessen the girl's fury. She strode forward to slap Sirius' face hard, the force of her blow leaving pink lines against the boy's cheek.

"You little _brat!_" Her voice was a shriek, face wild with anger. "If you _ever_ touch anything of mine again, I swear to Merlin, it won't be _Stupefy_ I'll use on you. I'll …"

"Now then." Alphard said it a little more forcefully this time, dropping a hand onto Sirius' shoulder. "No harm done, hey? Might be a case of least said, soonest mended, don't you think?"

"No harm _done_?" Bellatrix turned her temper onto her uncle just as easily. "Have you any idea how much this broom is _worth?_ It's brand-new, and that worthless little horror just decides he wants to jump on and have a joyride, and you think that's just _fine?_"

"That's _enough_, Bellatrix." Up at her window, Andromeda breathed a sigh of relief as Walburga finally cut in. "Sirius, go to your room _immediately,_ please. I'll deal with you myself later."

From the way the youngster's shoulders drooped as he turned to obey, he didn't view that as much gentler a punishment than being left to face Bellatrix. Andromeda wondered for a moment just what Sirius had _thought_ would happen. One day, the boy really did have to learn that his pranks carried consequences.

"The rest of you – I don't believe there's any real need for you to be here, is there? I'm sure you all have work to be doing." One by one, still looking a little shocked by the day's events, the watchers scurried away.

Bellatrix waited, her face flushed still. From her expression, she expected to be pulled up for her actions towards the boy – was _waiting_ for her chance to argue when scolded, to complain about why it was justified.

But she never got the chance. When there was no-one else left, her aunt simply looked at her for a moment and turned away, dismissing the matter as though it were of no consequence.

And despite what her aunt had said, watching at the window Andromeda knew it wasn't enough, and knew that everyone wandering away knew it also. The fall could have killed the boy; it was sheer luck that Alphard had been quick enough to prevent it. Bellatrix should have been at _least_ scolded for that; in any usual quarrel would have been.

The problem was that Bellatrix was right also. Bellatrix shouldn't have used _Stupefy_ certainly, and yet, neither should it have got to a point where she should have got the chance. Walburga herself should have dealt with her son before things got anywhere near that point.

She should have punished her son and brought him down. She should have punished Bellatrix for her actions. But she hadn't, there was no way Black pride would ever allow her to admit to a mistake, and who would tell the family matriarch that her actions had been wrong?

Still watching out of the window, Andromeda shivered a little at the expression on her sister's face as Bellatrix picked up her broom and moved to return inside.

Enough was enough. But too much was not enough, and for a moment, Bella had been allowed far, far too much and a disturbing precedent had been set.

As far as Andromeda was aware, no-one ever _did_ speak to Bellatrix about the incident afterwards. From the way their parents looked at her that night at dinner, it seemed as though perhaps they might have liked to reprimand her for her behaviour, but with Walburga having let the matter drop, it was difficult.

Andromeda thought of saying something herself, perhaps of going to have one of those quiet little talks with her older sister that could sometimes calm Bellatrix's wilder spurts of temper. But Sirius was unhurt, if a little subdued, and it wouldn't be _so_ long before Bellatrix would be moving in any case, married to some pure-blood or another. That should put an end to any problems, taking her out from where the boys could annoy her.

Sometimes it was just easier to ignore a problem than to talk about it at all.

The holidays were nearly over at any rate. It was no time at all before Andromeda and Narcissa found themselves back at platform nine and three-quarters, once more waiting for the train to arrive. Not that Narcissa was happy about that.

"Really," she grumbled, shifting from foot to foot and hugging herself to shield against the January chill, "it's too bad that we have to get public transport along with everybody else to get to school. You'd think Aunt Walburga could arrange for something more private. Even _Muggle-borns_ get this thing."

"You want to try asking her, you be my guest." The wind was biting, and Andromeda rubbed her arms, trying to get some warmth into them. "You might end up with a long lecture on how she's spending good money already to send you to a school where you fail to study, though."

Narcissa grimaced. "I bet she will next year though," she suggested hopefully. "What with Sirius starting in September. She's hardly going to let the precious Heir of the House of Black travel on a _train_, is she?"

"I wouldn't bet on it. Sirius would probably love every minute of train travel, and then get his head cut off by sticking it out just before we hit a bridge or something," Andromeda predicted. "The conductors are going to _hate_ him, but I can't see him begging for a chance to get off the train." She stamped her feet, trying to huff her breath upwards to warm her face. "You know, if my nose gets any colder, I think it may actually fall off."

"Narcissa!" Andromeda glanced up, and sighed to herself at the sight of the smart young man walking briskly towards them. Lucius didn't run to greet them, of course – that would be far too undignified for a Malfoy. He did hug the girl briefly however, a quick, light embrace, released before it could be said to be too intimate, despite the fact that Narcissa would clearly have been happy to hang on for much, much longer. It was a sad realisation that her sister was most correctly described as "smitten", a word that in Andromeda's opinion should stay firmly locked between the covers of tawdry romance novels.

"Did you have a good holiday? Merlin, my little cousins were _awful_. Isn't the weather horrible?" Narcissa spoke in an excited rush, her whole face lighting up as she clutched at Lucius' arm, hanging on as though afraid he might wander off again at any moment.

Even a Black daughter wasn't immune to the fear that a boy might leave her.

Lucius neither encouraged her nor shrugged her off, taking the attention with a slightly amused smile, seeming almost bored by it. "Andromeda," he greeted courteously.

"Lucius," Andromeda returned, biting back the words that wanted to come, that he should hug Cissy _properly_ for Merlin's sake and stop being so annoyingly casual about it. If he hurt her little sister … well. Bellatrix wasn't the only one who knew a few good curses when needed.

"Your Mudblood hasn't come to meet you then, I see? " Lucius drawled the words lazily. "Perhaps he's learnt where he's not wanted."

Andromeda felt herself flush in reaction. Certainly, she'd been ordered to deal with the boy, certainly she was _intending_ to do so as soon as she saw him, but still …

No-one liked someone implying they'd been dumped. Not even – perhaps _especially_ not - by someone so beneath their station as Ted Tonks.

"We arranged to meet on the train, thank you," she snapped, lifting her chin. "Much better than greeting each other on the station, don't you think? Public displays of affection can look so _common_."

She saw Narcissa's eyes open wide at the bluff, and sighed to herself. She'd just have to speak to the girl later.

The words worked like a charm on Lucius though. The boy straightened his back quickly, pulling his arm from Narcissa's grasp. "I barely think you'd care about looking common when you're seeing a _Mudblood_ of all things. I didn't think you were the type to like a bit of rough, Andromeda, but I suppose there's no accounting for taste with some girls."

He smiled that annoying smug little smile again and Andromeda wondered briefly whether Bellatrix's baldness curse worked on males as well as females.

"Well, you know," she replied instead, keeping her voice sickly-sweet, "I might have picked someone of a better pedigree, but some of the pure-blood males can be _such_ a disappointment." She smiled sharply back at Lucius. "After all, isn't that why so many of _your_ line have only one child? It must be a terrible shame to your father that your mother wouldn't sleep with him more than the once required to produce an heir… "

Much to her delight, her words had the intended effect, two red spots appearing high on Lucius' cheeks.

Narcissa was also looking rather shocked. "Andro_meda!"_

"Now, see here!" Lucius clearly had not expected such rudeness.

Andromeda pretended not to hear, glancing off over to the track. "Whoops, it looks like the train will be here soon. I'd better go – don't want to miss getting a good seat, after all."

She hurried away, dodging through the crowd of assembled students, ignoring her sister's shouts for her to come back right this minute. Once out of sight, she leaned against the station wall, trying to control her giggles.

"Your sister's boyfriend looks like he swallowed a toad." The voice at her side made her jump, and there was Ted Tonks, grinning down at her, his expression deeply amused. "I take it you have something to do with that?"

"Maybe." It was difficult to stop laughing, even when she knew she should be serious, should step away now. "I may have just accidentally insulted him a little."

"Accidentally?" Ted raised his eyebrows at her. "What exactly did you say?"

And that look made Andromeda dissolve into laughter again, an explosion of giggles that made her lean over and clutch her stomach, trying to catch her breath. "I … may have implied that the Malfoy family is so small because they're so bad in bed …"

Ted's bellow of laughter in response to that had people looking around to see just what the joke was. "And here I thought you were a lady. I think I'm a bad influence on you."

"Hey, I'm a _Black_ lady, and he insulted me first!" Andromeda protested. "Frankly, if someone does that to a Black, they should consider themselves lucky to be able to _walk_ afterwards."

"I'll remember that." It was hard to tell whether Ted was serious or teasing when he said that, but he slipped an arm around Andromeda's shoulders without waiting for permission, pulling her closer. "You look frozen. Didn't you use a warming spell? You _are_ old enough now to do magic out of school, aren't you?"

"Well … yes." And she felt foolish of not thinking of something so obvious, but Ted had already pulled his wand out, murmuring lightly. A moment later, she felt a pleasant warm glow spread down her body. "Oh! Thank you!"

"You're welcome. My mum insisted on going carol-singing over Christmas. You'd be _amazed_ by how many of those I've had to use. Only thing worse than standing on some stranger's doorstep while they glare and wish you would go away is doing the same thing while suffering frostbite," Ted said dryly. "But it's for charity, so we don't complain. Look, the train's in."

Indeed, the Hogwarts Express was just pulling into the station, and the gathered students thronged towards it, anxious for a place out of the cold air.

Andromeda knew of course that she should shake Ted Tonks' arm from around her shoulders before they got on. People would see, people would _talk_, and it would do no good whatsoever to her reputation. Still, Lucius' words lingered in her mind, and there was always the chance he would be watching them climb on. There was no way she was going to give him a chance to smirk at her like that again if she could help it.

She could always speak to Ted about the situation once they were at school. Let him down gently, that kind of thing. After all, there could be no way he could be taking this thing _seriously_, could there?

Mind made up, she smiled up at Ted for a moment, reaching to squeeze his hand with gloved fingers. "We'd better hurry then, else we'll never get a carriage to ourselves."

Turning to help push their way through the crowd, she quite missed Ted's look – smiling, and yet bemused as he glanced down at her – before, quite as though he were a proper pure-blood gentleman, he moved to help her onto the train.


	2. Chapter 2

"Go away. I'm not speaking to you."

"Oh, come _on_, Narcissa." Andromeda was glad the fourth-year Slytherin dormitories were fairly deserted. Everyone else had headed down to the common room at the first opportunity to catch up on Christmas news.

All that was left was Andromeda and one distinctly sulky younger sister.

"No, I mean it." Narcissa turned her back determinedly, crouching to empty her trunk. "You were horrid to Lucius, and Aunt Walburga's probably going to fly all the way to Hogwarts just to tell you off _personally_ when she hears. And I hope she does, because if Lucius never speaks to me again, it'll be _your_ fault, Andromeda Black!"

Not a promising start to the conversation. Andromeda sighed, and went to crouch at her sister's side, reaching to take the pile of clothes from her. "Give me those. You're creasing them."

"No!" Narcissa wrenched them away, eyes red-rimmed as she glared at her sister. "You don't even have the decency to say you're sorry!"

"For being rude to Lucius?" Andromeda raised her eyebrows. "He deserved it. The boy shouldn't start fights he can't finish."

"Because you're seeing that _awful_ Mudblood again!" Narcissa snapped. "Because you wouldn't listen to me, _or_ Bellatrix, _or_ Mother and when word gets out we'll all be marked as horrid blood traitors, and no-one from any of the good families will want to marry _any_ of us, and I shall die a spinster, and the House of Black will fall, and it'll all be your fault, and I hope you'll be _happy_ then!"

The melodrama made Andromeda's mouth twitch a little, but she decided that laughing just then might not be considered tactful. She gave in on taking the clothes, sitting down on her sister's bed instead. "I take it you had an argument with Lucius?"

Narcissa's lips trembled, blue eyes filling with tears. "He thinks it's embarrassing to be associated with someone whose sister's seeing a Mudblood. And you didn't help at all. Why do you have to be so _horrid_ to him all the time?"

"Oh, sweetheart." Years of dealing with her little sister should perhaps have given Andromeda more of an immunity to tears, but there was something inside her that never failed to break a little when she saw that fragile little face quiver. She held her arms out to Narcissa, voice coaxing. "Don't cry, Cissy. Come here."

Narcissa shook her head, but slumped at the other end of the bed, dropping the clothes in a heap onto the floor. "I just don't understand why you were so _awful_ to him. Don't you _want_ me to be happy?"

"Ah, Cissy." If Narcissa wouldn't come to her… well then. Andromeda shifted over the couple of feet between them, slipping an arm around her sister's shoulder, ignoring Narcissa's attempts to shrug it off. "Cissy, listen to me. I was awful to him, it's true, but I had good reason for that. I don't like the boy."

Narcissa sniffed, "Yes, well, considering what your taste extends to … "

"No, Cissy, I didn't mean it like that." Firmly, Andromeda nudged her sister around until she faced the mirror, and gestured at it. "You see that?"

Narcissa squinted at her reflection. "I look like a soggy mess?" Indeed, tear-streaked and miserable, she was not looking her best.

Andromeda ignored her, carrying on firmly. "_That_ is a beautiful young girl of the Black Family," she said sternly. "Your lineage carries on back over generations of powerful wizards. It's _every bit_ as good as that Malfoy boy's if not better. _He_ should be fighting to go out with you, not the other way around." She hugged her sister closer, gentling her voice. "Honestly, Cissy, if I thought he treated you right, I'd behave myself for you no matter what it took. But you deserve to be seeing someone who ... who looks at you as though the sun rises and sets in your eyes, and he _doesn't._"

"And I suppose that Mudblood of yours does?" Narcissa's voice was surly. "I'm not prepared to go _that_ far beneath me, just to have someone who thinks I'm wonderful. Of course, _he_ thinks he's lucky to have you, but someone of good breeding is a bit of a different matter."

"Oh, lovey, is that what you think this is about?" Andromeda stroked her hand over her sister's hair, smoothing out the long blonde strands. "That I'm dating him _just_ because he's so far down he can't believe his luck? No, sweetheart. If all I wanted was something to look at me with adoring eyes, I'd ask Father to buy me a puppy."

"Then why _are_ you doing it?" Narcissa raised her face to look at her sister. "Everyone's _told_ you to stop."

Ah, and there was the question. Andromeda hesitated a moment. "Today, it was a little because Lucius was annoying me," she admitted. "I _do_ listen to you and Bella, dearest, and to Mother, too, but that boy has no place giving me orders, being so rude, and I won't have it."

"But he was right, Andromeda!" Narcissa protested. "That Mudblood _oughtn't_ to be butting in where he's not wanted. It was awful of him to even _ask_ you to the dance, and …"

"I wish you would stop using that word, dear." She had tolerated it when Narcissa was tearfully hysterical, but after too many uses it began to jar. "I've told you before, it's not a nice word from a lady's mouth."

"It's what he _is_!" This time Narcissa flushed, but glared at her sister defiantly. "Putting it in prettier words won't make him any less of one! You just don't want me to use it so you can pretend he's something else in your head. Well, he's not, he's a _Mudblood_ with no more magic in his line than in any other Muggles', and you need to _remember_ that!"

It was odd how quickly Andromeda could flash from feeling sorry for her sister to being irritated by her, but that apparently was the nature of younger sisters. She stared at Narcissa for a moment, reining her temper in.

"Maybe he is," she said after a long moment, "but even so, he _still_ has better manners than your Lucius."

"So he's polite to his betters." There was an unpleasant sneer in the younger girl's voice. "Just because a dog can politely shake hands doesn't mean you need to start a romance with it."

"And now you're even starting to _sound_ like Lucius." It took control not to reach out and slap her younger sister, control for Andromeda to rise calmly to her feet. "If you're going to be like that, I'll leave you to feeling sorry for yourself, shall I?"

"Fine!" Never let it be said that Narcissa lacked the stubborn Black pride that the family seemed to dish out in spades. The fifteen-year-old hunched herself up, obviously miserable, but still managing to scowl at her sister. "I don't want a blood traitor in my room anyway!"

Perhaps, Andromeda thought, it _was_ for the best that she go now before tempers rose any further and either of them said words that could not be taken back. She headed for the door, but paused before she left, glancing back at her unhappy little sister.

"I'm sorry you argued with Lucius," she said quietly. "He'll be back if he's any sense – there aren't _many_ pretty girls with your lineage in this school. When he does, though … make him work for it. You're too smart to be nothing more than the girl hanging on his arm, begging for his favours. Don't let him make you that."

With that she slipped away, leaving Narcissa sniffling behind her. Apologies and making up could wait until they had both calmed down a little.

As fun as annoying Lucius had been, it couldn't last forever. It might be interesting to rile the Malfoy boy, and amusing to make the Slytherin house buzz with shocked whispers about Ted, but making her little sister cry was another matter entirely. Narcissa kept throwing reproachful looks across the table at dinner which made Andromeda feel more than a little guilty. The fun she wasn't having surely wasn't worth falling out with her sister.

Besides, if it went on too much longer, her family almost certainly would find out – if not from Narcissa, than through the grapevine from one of the other pure-blood families. They did so _love_ to spread gossip about, after all. And once it got back … well. The _best_ she could probably expect was a Howler. The worst might well be Father or Aunt Walburga turning up at school to drag her home, N.E.W.T.s be damned, before she could embarrass the family any further.

That was probably not something she should be risking at all, especially not for what essentially amounted to playing about.

And yet … and yet. There shouldn't even _be_ any kind of "and yet" but somehow Andromeda found herself putting it off, delaying the talk just a little longer. There was nothing special about Ted Tonks of course, nothing in him that couldn't be found in a hundred other boys at the school. He was just another jumped up Muggle who'd found he had a little magic and thought it made him special.

But he made her laugh. He made her laugh, and he had big, warm, kind hands – arms that slipped casually around her shoulders, hands which might touch her arms or back to draw attention to something, but were too courteous to stray elsewhere.

He was nice. Not special, not world-changing, but _nice_ and steady as a rock.

You couldn't risk being pulled out of school, or creating a rift with your sister just for nice, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to miss it a little.

The Hufflepuff students eyed her strangely as she headed for the still-life painting that provided access to their common room, and Andromeda wondered whether the gossip had been as busy between them as it was with the Slytherin students at the moment. Most likely it would have been, she decided, straightening her back and walking a little more properly for the watching students' benefit. It wasn't as though she was a Weasley or something after all. People paid attention to who the Blacks held in favour.

And that was exactly how it should be.

No amount of good breeding however, could magically supply her with the password to the Hufflepuff common room. She stopped at the picture, glancing about for someone who could help her.

"You there!" Her gaze fell on a small fair-haired boy, most likely a first-year. "Do you know Ted Tonks?"

Looking a little startled and nervous at being singled out by what was to him an almost grown-up Slytherin, the youngster glanced to his friends for support. "Yes?" he hazarded after a moment, hopefully. "Isn't he the sixth-year who's awfully good at Arithmancy?"

_Was_ he? It was somewhat of a shock to Andromeda to realise that for all she'd been flirting and enjoying herself with Ted for a good month or two, she had no idea what classes the boy even took, let alone what he might or might not be good at.

Still, the year was right, and how likely was it that there would be _two _Ted Tonks in sixth year? Not likely at all, especially since Tonks wasn't a wizarding name. "That's him," she nodded, after a moment's consideration. "Fetch him for me, would you?"

The boy nodded and turned to murmur something to the picture, too soft for Andromeda to hear – apparently a little nervous of a Slytherin learning the password. The painting opened for him and he raced off.

Andromeda leaned back against the corridor wall and waited, meeting the gaze of the curious Hufflepuffs with her own calm, cool stare. It was a few minutes before the painting opened again, and Ted stepped out, looking a little flustered.

"You wanted me? Is something wrong?"

He looked, Andromeda thought for a moment, rather nice in his Hufflepuff uniform. The yellow and black – usually a colour scheme Slytherins laughed at for making its students look like giant wasps – somehow managed to suit him.

She banished the thought from her mind quickly. That was not a good way to think if she was to do what she needed to today. "I needed to talk to you about something," she said, conscious of the other students still staring. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Ted stared at her a little oddly for a moment, and then nodded. "Of course. Come on." He reached to rest a light hand on her arm, leading her away. Behind her, Andromeda heard the Hufflepuff students begin a low buzz of conversation and winced inwardly. Well, if they hadn't been gossiping about her and Ted before, they certainly were _now_.

Never mind, though. It wasn't as though it would matter much after today.

"I never knew you were good at Arithmancy," she said lightly, not shrugging his hand away. It seemed mean somehow to just come out and say it, easier to work up to it with other topics first.

"You never asked," Ted pointed out mildly. "Anyway, I'm not _fantastic_ at it. I just tutor some of the younger kids on it when they get stuck. It can take people a while to get their heads around all the numbers." He glanced down at Andromeda, squeezing her arm lightly. "The lake okay for whatever this big talk of yours is?"

February chill meant that the lake was likely to be deserted. "Perfect." Andromeda nodded.

"You know, I think you scared poor Davie silly." Ted chuckled quietly to himself. "Poor little kid. Said there was a Black sister looking for me, and that he could say I wasn't here if I wanted. I think he thought you were going to curse me or something. You girls have got yourself quite the reputation there."

"That's silly!" Andromeda protested, a little indignantly. "It's not like we just go around randomly cursing people all the time."

"Ah?" Ted looked down at her again, eyebrows rising just a little. "So the stories I've heard about your sister aren't true then?"

That made her hesitate. Bellatrix did have _such_ a temper at times, after all. "Well, maybe Bella might have cursed people, once or twice," she admitted reluctantly. "But only people who deserved it!" Unbidden, the image came to her mind of Sirius toppling from a broomstick, plummeting towards the ground. She shivered. "_Mostly_ people who deserved it."

"Indeed?" Perhaps it was Andromeda's imagination that made her think that Ted sounded just a little sceptical about that. Either way, he didn't comment on the matter further.

She pushed her hands into her pockets, shivering a little as they stepped outside and they hit the cold winter air. Her school uniform really didn't do much to help against the bitter February cold.

Ted felt the shiver, and pulled Andromeda a little closer to his own warm body, already reaching for his wand. "Warming spell," he reminded her, voice a little chiding. "I thought someone from _your_ family would remember this stuff better than I do – here." He tapped her lightly, murmuring under his breath, and again Andromeda felt the delicious heat spreading through her body.

"Thank you."

"Next time, I'll pretend not to notice until your cheeks get all rosy with cold again." Ted said mildly. "But it seemed mean to make you suffer when you have something on your mind."

He waved a hand in front of them. "Over there, you will see the lake," he instructed, adopting a tour guide voice. "Behind us the school. And unless I am very much mistaken …" He turned his head from left to right, over-exaggerating the movement. "No, no-one else within hearing distance, because no-one else is stupid enough to come out in weather like this. I think even the squid is hibernating. Private enough for you?"

Andromeda felt her lips try to twitch into a smile and fought it, forcing her face into a more formal expression. "Yes. Thank you." The words came out more stiffly than she intended, the carefully polite tone with which a Black was taught to thank a lesser.

Ted caught that, too. She could see it in the way he eyed her for a moment, as though trying to decide how exactly to handle it.

It seemed he decided that ignoring it was the best way to go. "So, what was so important you had to come to scare our first-years?"

"That wasn't intentional!" Andromeda protested. "Honestly, your first-years need to grow a backbone if that's the way they react to just being asked to _fetch_ someone."

And again that look, that careful look that said he was trying to read her and working out how exactly to deal with her. "You're avoiding the subject," he pointed out quietly.

Andromeda deflated a little. "Yes, well."

"I'm quite happy to walk by the lake and go squid-spotting with you all afternoon if you'd like, but if it was important enough that you came looking for me, it's probably also important enough that you should actually say it."

Actually saying it was more difficult than Andromeda had thought it would be. She swallowed, glancing over to the lake rather than at Ted. "We need to stop seeing each other."

"Ah?" Ted stopped walking, though his hand still rested on Andromeda's arm.

"I'm a pure-blood." And it seemed unfair that she should even have to _explain_ this – anyone from a wizarding family would understand the situation, and just have the decency to apologise and walk away or something.

"I know that." He stood there still, looking at her, as though waiting for her to add more.

"The Blacks don't – we can't have relationships with people who are _half-bloods_, let alone Mudbl- let alone Muggle-born," she corrected herself quickly.

"Any reason why?" Ted raised his eyebrows at her. "All this inbreeding. You know, I never realised you were the type to dream of birthing someone like Lucius, the seven-toed wonder-boy."

"Stop that." Andromeda flushed, pulling her arm away from his. "It's just… it waters the blood down. I don't expect _you _to understand that, but it's not good for magic. It … introduces bad elements, makes the magic weaker. It even heightens the risk of producing … " she lowered her voice, as though saying an unimaginably bad word, " … Squibs."

"All of that, just by walking by a lake? Dear me, I am impressed," Ted said, his voice dry. "You know, among Muggles we actually have to have sex first before risking any of that."

"For Merlin's sake, can't you just be serious about something for five seconds?" The remarks that seemed funny when directed at other people suddenly seemed exasperating and hurtful when directed at Andromeda herself.

Ted was quiet for a moment, looking at her. "And what exactly would you like me to say?"

That threw her a little, and she glared at him. "You could at least act a little _sorry!_"

"Sorry?" He looked at her oddly, head tilted to one side. "Andromeda, it isn't me suggesting we stop seeing each other."

"It's your blood – your _family!_" She was being irrational, she knew, but why should Narcissa be the only one who was allowed to get irrationally angry from time to time? "If it weren't for that, we'd be fine!"

"Ah, so you want me to apologise for my lack of a decent pedigree?" Ted sounded angry now. "You're a pretty girl, Andromeda, and a sweet one somewhere underneath all that snootiness, and if I can't see you any more … Well, that's a little sad but I'm sure I'll get over it. But I've got a decent family, one who's stuck by me _despite_ what they see as me messing about with this crazy magic stuff, and I'm not going to apologise for them, just because they don't meet your high and mighty standards."

Andromeda gaped at him for a moment. "Crazy magic stuff?"

"There is a world _outside_ your cosy little inbred Wizarding families, though, God knows, I swear some of you pure-bloods never opened your eyes wide enough to see it," Ted snapped. "You think my family like me being whisked off every term to study something they can't talk to their friends about – hell, something they aren't sure they even believe in? But they cope, and they _try_ to adjust to it, and they're _proud_ of me for doing well in subjects they can't even begin to understand, and you want me to be ashamed of them for that? Maybe lie a little, make up an imaginary wizard relative or two so my blood doesn't seem _quite_ so watered down to you?"

The truth was, that actually seemed like an attractive preposition. Her family still wouldn't _accept_ a half-blood of course, but they'd still be less upset than they were by the prospect of someone with no wizarding blood whatsoever.

Maybe now wasn't a good idea to suggest that, though.

"I was only trying to explain that they're not up to my family's standards!" Andromeda protested. "I'm sure they're very nice people, but they're not … well … "

"They're not Blacks," Ted said wearily, his voice bitter. "They're not Blacks, or Malfoys, or Lestranges, or anyone else from your happy little circle. My great aunt never attended the same knitting circle as your great aunt; my father will never go golfing with your father, or whatever the magical equivalent is. Yes, I know. I get it. Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine." Ted waved a hand at her. "If that's how it's got to be, that's how it's got to be. I'm not going to beg you to change your mind. Frankly, if I wailed all over you and you changed your mind out of pity or something … Well, I can't see us going anywhere good from there in any case. Return to your own happy little world. Find your suitably pedigreed husband – your parents probably have a cousin lined up that you'll make a brilliant match with. I hope you and your seven-toed babies do very well together."

Still, she stared at him, not sure what to say – or what she wanted _him_ to say. "But …"

"Andromeda." Finally his voice softened a little. "It's okay. You've broken it off. It's over. I'm not going to give you a hard time about it. You want what? For me to forgive you for it? Fine, you're forgiven. Go on back inside now. It's cold."

Not until he actually gripped her shoulders lightly and turned her, giving her a little push, did Andromeda do as she was told, walking slowly back towards the school.

She had stayed in control. _She_ had broken it off, not him. And she had maintained the honour of her family. So really, she had no reason at all to want to cry.

He was only a Mudblood, after all.

"Andromeda, why is the - oh!" Narcissa never had been good at knocking, but she broke off abruptly after charging into her sister's dormitory when she realised Andromeda was in tears. "What's wrong?"

"It's okay." Andromeda sniffed hard, trying to bring the weeping under control. "I'm okay. Just… having a moment."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Andromeda shook her head. "Get a bad mark? It's okay, you know. Mother and Father always forgive mine, and you're _heaps_ more intelligent than me. At least they know you _try_." Grudges were quickly forgotten when a sibling was upset. Narcissa sat down on the bed next to Andromeda, wrapping her arms around her. She lowered her voice a little. "Is it that time of the month?"

"No – well, maybe a little," Andromeda admitted. That might help to explain why she felt so utterly miserable over something that shouldn't have upset her at all, because she really couldn't be this tearful over a relationship that had never_ really_ happened. "I broke up with Ted."

"Oh, Dromeda." Faced with such unhappiness, Narcissa reverted to the old baby name. "Was he mean to you? Do you want me to curse him?" she offered hopefully. "Bella showed me this new one that'd give him some really nasty stomach cramps. He might even have to go home."

"Bella shouldn't be teaching you curses like that." Andromeda sniffed again, and pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve, blowing her nose hard. "And no, he wasn't mean. Just a moment, as I said."

"You did break up with _him_, right?" Despite Narcissa's sympathy, the question was an anxious one. To be dumped by someone like Ted Tonks would be worse than humiliating.

Andromeda nodded. "By the lake. I told him it wasn't proper, that we had to." She gulped, stifling another sob. "I don't know why I feel so _awful._"

"That explains why the house is full of talk that you were over at Hufflepuff," Narcissa said shrewdly. "I _wondered_ why you'd been over there." She didn't have to add that she'd wondered and been worried, for such rumours could damage her own reputation through association with Andromeda. Enough tantrums had been thrown that Andromeda didn't need to hear that spoken out loud to know her motivation.

Relieved, Narcissa hugged her sister tightly. "It's probably just hormones. Nothing more than that. You'll feel better in a few days."

"I guess so." Andromeda wiped her face with the handkerchief, managing a watery smile.

"Besides, even if he weren't a Mudblood, he'd still be a Hufflepuff," Narcissa reasoned. "And you wouldn't want to go out with one of _those,_ would you? Those awful house colours."

Andromeda managed a weak giggle. "They suit him actually. Besides, yellow and black is _classic!"_

"Sure they are," Narcissa agreed, "if you're a wasp."

"Stop that!" Andromeda poked her sister's stomach lightly.

Encouraged, seeing that her sister's face had brightened a little, Narcissa hummed to herself, "Buzz buzz buzz." She stood, offering Andromeda a hand up. "Come on. I think I've got some chocolate left in my dormitory somewhere. You'll feel better."

And as quickly as that, their argument was forgotten, with chocolate being at least as effective as an _Obliviate_ when it came to sisters at least.

The letters from home said that Bellatrix was getting married. Apparently, from the potential suitors Aunt Walburga had lined up, she had picked Rodolphus Lestrange – a man Andromeda could only vaguely remember from his visits to the Black house when they'd been home. He'd seemed unremarkable as far as she could judge, but if Bellatrix liked him and his lineage was good, that was what mattered, surely.

Bellatrix did at least seem to have prepared for the news, sending her youngest sister into a state of squealing anticipatory joy. The idea of being a bridesmaid almost had Narcissa running in circles from sheer excited happiness. They couldn't be spared from school to prepare – especially not with Narcissa's O.W.L.s to be sat so soon – but swatches of fabric arrived from home almost daily along with potential dress designs.

Andromeda bore it with good humour, sending her measurements back home along with Narcissa's and dutifully scrutinising each material placed in front of her. The blue Bellatrix had picked out suited Narcissa's colouring far more than her own however, and there came a time sometime after the sixth day of swatches when discussing the benefits of two almost identical shades of silk became a little much. She excused herself as needing to catch up on a _History of Magic_ essay and fled, desperate for conversation that didn't revolve around which colour would make Narcissa's hair look prettier.

It was no good hiding in the dormitory from that – far too likely that her sister would come by later to see if she was _actually_ working. The Slytherin common room was out for the same reason. Indeed, the best way to hide seemed to be to actually do what she had intended, and so Andromeda collected her books and headed for the library.

It was almost empty in there, and Andromeda breathed a sigh of relief at that until she spotted a familiar mop of blond hair bent studiously over a book and realised to her dismay that it wasn't _quite_ empty.

Ted Tonks looked up at the sound of the door opening, glanced at Andromeda, and without a word shifted his books up to make room for her at the desk.

It wasn't as though she _had_ to sit next to him, of course. There were plenty of other empty desks in there that Andromeda could have picked. Indeed, by doing so, she knew, it was likely that she might get more work done.

Still, it seemed rude not to take the seat he'd offered after he'd so politely made room for her.

He glanced at her essay title as she sat down, reading over her shoulder.

"_The Corruption of Wizarding Life by Muggle Culture Through The Ages,"_ he read out loud and raised his eyebrows a little. "Nice."

"It's a valid subject!" Andromeda protested defensively. "I'm studying how Muggle-born wizards through the years have joined the wizarding world and brought their own ideals and morals…"

"Corrupting your culture. Yes. I get the idea," Ted said mildly, that faint note of amusement in his voice again. "You might mention that if you'd allow us to infect you with a few more things, like phones and televisions, you might make life a whole lot easier for yourselves."

Andromeda frowned at him a little. "Television?"

"Like uh… like one of your photos, but with sound and the movement lasts longer…" Ted tried to explain, but broke off. "Never mind. Binns won't have heard of it. He's the type to think of the _gramophone_ as threatening new technology."

"Ah," Andromeda nodded, trying to look as though she understood what Ted was talking about before she sneaked a look at his own work. It seemed to be a complicated and almost unreadable scrawl of equations and numbers. "Arithmancy?" she guessed.

He nodded running a hand through his hair and looking a little tired. "I'm wanting to get in at Gringotts when we're finished here, and they only accept the best marks," he explained. "It's not the most glamorous subject, I know, but I like it. It makes sense to me."

"I never could wrap my head around it," Andromeda admitted. "But I suppose as long as _you_ understand it, that's okay. You're the one who has to sit the exam in it, after all."

"Indeed," Ted glanced back down at his work. "Well, I have to get this done, so uh…"

"No, that's fine," Andromeda reassured him. "I really do have to finish this essay. You carry on."

Dark head and blond head each bent over their respective work, both scribbling busily. It was almost an hour before Ted looked up again, stretching out his back with a crack and a sigh.

"Tired?" Andromeda glanced up from her own work.

"Stiff, and I've got numbers dancing in front of my eyes," Ted admitted. "How's your essay going?"

"It's…. going," she sounded a little hesitant about it, glancing down at it.

"That good, hey?" Ted held out a hand. "May I see?"

It seemed a little odd to hand an essay on the Muggle influence over to someone who was actually from a Muggle family, but Ted didn't seem angry about it at all. He waited patiently with his hand held out, and reluctantly Andromeda handed it over.

He read through it quietly, eyes skimming over Andromeda's neatly lettered pages.

"Well?" Andromeda found herself fidgeting anxiously as she watched him read, desperate for his opinion.

"Not bad," Ted pronounced eventually. "Not bad at all. Just a couple of grammar errors and – do you mind if I make notes for you? There's a couple of ways you could extend it."

"You go ahead." Andromeda gestured, watching, almost hypnotised as he picked up his pen.

"Right, well," Ted cleared his throat frowning a little as he thought, "you could add a bit in about the beneficial parts of the culture you've adopted – it's not _all_ bad you know."

Andromeda looked at him, a little sceptical. "Such as?"

"Well, there's the radio for a start," Ted suggested, noting it down. "We've had that for ages – uh, Muggle called Tesla or something like that invented it."

Andromeda was already shaking her head, however. "Wizard invention," she said firmly. "Guglielmo Marconi. You Muggles may have _borrowed_ it but we invented it."

Ted's mouth twitched. "Sweetheart, if _your_ guys had invented it, they would have forgotten all the screws and connections and just gone with some extension of fire-calling that was suitable for mass contact. It's possible a wizard Confunded someone into _believing_ he invented it, but…"

Andromeda looked at him, dark eyebrows raised. "Sweetheart?"

She felt absurdly pleased when Ted flushed and cleared his throat, looking away. "Sorry. Uh, right, well. In any case, there's also the medical stuff," he went on, quickly changing the subject. "I mean, you guys have your own things – ointment and charms and what-have-you that are usually a fair bit faster than anything we've got – but it's all based on a foundation of Muggle science. I mean, it's like you've taken Muggle explanations of how the body works, and then just used magic to make it work _better."_

Despite her initial disbelief, this was interesting stuff, and Andromeda waited as he noted it down.

"You might also explore our influence on your language," Ted went on. "I mean, that isn't really something you can classify as either helpful or harmful, but it's worth noting how some things have crept in without anyone noticing."

"Oh, come on!" Andromeda protested. "You can't possibly be sure where _language_ started!"

"You'd be surprised," Ted said calmly. "There's "bloody" for a start. I _know_ I've heard pure-bloods using that."

Andromeda stared at him, a little confused. "You don't think pure-bloods bleed?"

Ted laughed. "Oh, I'm sure they do but the word doesn't originate there," he explained. "No, it comes from "by our lady" - terrible blasphemy in its time. And as I haven't seen your folks being very big on blasphemy – or religion for that matter – I'm fairly sure you got it from us."

"You're making this up," Andromeda accused suspiciously. "How on earth do you _know_ this stuff?"

"No, no." Ted shook his head, grinning. "Look it up in a _Muggle Studies_ book, and it'll be there, I swear. I grew up with a mother who was strict on swearing, and she used to explain in detail _why_ words were bad and wrong."

"Oh." She glanced at her essay, already mentally rewriting it in her head, making room for new points and paragraphs, before she looked back at Ted. "Uh what you said before… about your family."

The change in Ted was obvious just from those words. He seemed to tense a little, his easy relaxed manner fading. "What about it?"

"The… do they _really_ see it as crazy magic stuff?"

"More or less, yes." Ted shrugged. "They're getting more used to it after this many years, but they still worry. It's not easy for them – I was the bright kid who was _meant_ to grow up and be the first in the family to go to University. Then I go and get a letter from Hogwarts, and it all falls on my brother – and he, poor kid, is more interested in football than studying."

Andromeda frowned a little. "But how could any Muggle school or University _possibly_ match up to the standards of Hogwarts? They should be proud!"

"Oh, they _are_ proud," Ted assured her. "Proud but confused, I think. Mum's been worried for years that when I finally get bored of this whole magic business, I won't have any proper qualifications behind me. I end up studying Muggle subjects in the holidays to please her, just in case I ever decide to go for my O-levels."

"O-levels?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Muggle exam. A little like O.W.L.s in a way, but in different subjects."

"It sounds silly to me." Andromeda shook her head. "Doesn't she know that even if you _did_ want to go for some Muggle job, you could always Confund anyone into _believing_ your O.W.L.s were any qualification you wanted them to be?"

"I think my mum would view that as cheating," Ted said dryly. "And I'm not all that sure she wouldn't be right." He stretched again, standing up to tidy some of their books away. "I doubt I'll ever go back in to a Muggle job, but if I do, I'll likely sit the exams first. It's usually easier to be honest."

It was hard to imagine someone purposefully choosing not to use their Hogwarts education. Andromeda eyed Ted uncertainly. "What would you have done?" she asked. "If you hadn't come to Hogwarts, I mean?"

"Oh, I'd have gone to the local grammar school," Ted answered. "I had the marks from my eleven plus to get in – my parents even had the uniform all ready for me. Then they wanted me to sit A-levels, go to University, then to work – probably some job involving maths, I expect. I like maths." He grinned at her. "Not exactly as exciting as this place, but not a bad life. Don't go thinking Hogwarts rescued me from a life in the gutter or something. I think I would've done okay."

She stared at him for a minute, trying to picture it – imagining Ted in ordinary Muggle clothes, going to some boring everyday Muggle job. "It still sounds awfully dreary," she commented. "What's an eleven plus?"

"Eleven plus is…" Ted hesitated trying to find the words for it. "Imagine that in order to get into Hogwarts, everyone – from Muggle-borns like me to you, your sisters and Mr Seven Toes Malfoy – had to sit an exam. And if you pass it, then it doesn't matter who your parents are, you get to go to a _good _school like Hogwarts – one where they assume everyone is smart to start with. If you don't… well then, you go to a secondary modern, which isn't so good. It's sort of a way to make sure everyone gets a fair go at things."

"Don't people from the better families protest at their children going to the same schools as the poor children?" Andromeda asked doubtfully.

"Oh, often." Ted grinned at her. "But there's always private schools even for those rich kids who don't get through the exam. Money can get you to a lot of places, whether you're in your world or ours. And it's not quite as idealistic as I've made it sound – everyone sits the same exam, but if your parents have money they can usually afford more tutoring and stuff to get you ready for it."

"Did your parents…?"

"On a postman's wage? Not likely!" He shook his head. "But my Mum helped us where she could to get us ready for it. She was _so_ proud to be able to boast to our neighbours that I passed, and then _so_ disappointed when it turned out I wouldn't be going after all. But our Ben managed to scrape through three years after I came here, so she got her dream of having a son in grammar school uniform in the end."

"I still don't understand how she couldn't see that coming here is _better_," Andromeda complained.

"Well, for a start it's harder to boast about," Ted pointed out. "You tell your neighbours around our way that you're sending your kid to wizard school, and just see how fast they start avoiding you. And it took her a while to accept it was even _real_ and when she did… well. It might be normal for _your_ lot to send kids away from eleven onwards, but not so much for our lot." He frowned a little. "She never said how much she hated that part of it, but I saw how scared she was when Ben hit eleven, and how relieved when he didn't get a letter. She was terrified he'd have to come away too."

"What does your brother want to be?" Andromeda asked quietly, watching him.

That brought the grin back to his face quickly. "Oh, a world-famous footballer. But he's fourteen. Plenty of time for him to decide that yet." He reached for his work, tucking the papers under his arm. "I better get back, or I'll be late for dinner. Let me know how that essay goes, okay?"

"I will," Andromeda promised without thinking. Her eyes followed him as he left, staring into space for a good five minutes after he left the library. It was just so _odd_ thinking of a world without magic, without wizardry of any type and yet where people could still apparently be happy with themselves and their lives.

She wondered if they would still be so happy if they _knew_ what it was they were missing.

After a few minutes she picked up the essay Ted had left on the table and went through it carefully, noting it, adding parts, crossing out whole paragraphs here and there. A while after that, she found herself fetching textbooks from the _Muggle Studies_ section – a section of the library she had previously avoided.

The essay she handed in two days later - _Muggle Influences on Wizarding Life - _wasn't quite the essay she had intended to write. It did however get an Outstanding.

The spring term seemed to fly by. While Andromeda had no exams to worry about that summer, Narcissa did, and the older girl became used to finding her sister staring blankly at a textbook, hoping some knowledge would magically sink in.

March came in like a lion that year with snowstorms and freezing blizzards. Students were warned about the risks of getting lost should they be out on a broomstick when a storm arrived after one sixth-year was discovered suffering from hypothermia several miles away.

It was a relief when the cold weather finally broke and the sun began to appear again. After the harsh weather at the beginning of the month, the end of the month seemed almost as though summer had arrived properly and the banks of the lake were full of people determined to get out and enjoy it.

Bellatrix's wedding was planned for Easter, and it wasn't only Narcissa who was excited about it. It was almost tradition that a pure-blood wedding would be cause to invite any other pure-bloods (except for unsuitable types like blood traitors, of course) to attend. It was considered a good place to network, a good way to scope out potential matches for your son or daughter, and – for the girls – an unrivalled opportunity to show off how pretty you could look. The closer the occasion came, the more chatter about it rose, until Andromeda was ready for it to be over just so she could stop _hearing_ about it.

For once, they were allowed to skip the usual family dinner on returning home. There was simply too much to do still – dresses to try on and adjust, the wedding itself to rehearse – for it to be even _remotely_ possible to get the whole family together for one meal.

There was no way however that either Narcissa or Andromeda would have missed the opportunity to have some private time with Bellatrix.

_GO BACK! _her door warned solemnly. _DOOM AND DESPAIR LIE BEYOND THIS POINT!_

Bellatrix's rather more human voice shouted over it, sounding exasperated, "Sirius, you little rat, if that's you I swear this time I _will _set fire to your hair."

Outside the door, the two sisters glanced at each other before Andromeda drew her wand and rather cautiously reached to push the door open.

She jumped back just in time to avoid the stream of orange flame that leapt out of the door towards them. "_Bella!_"

Bellatrix lowered her wand, still looking peeved. "Oh, it's you. I thought it was Sirius. He's been an absolute _pain_ lately."

"So I gathered," Andromeda eyed the scorch marks on the floor. "Some people might view setting him on fire as a bit of an over-reaction though."

"Those would be people who hadn't had to deal with him," Bellatrix retorted darkly. "Besides, I knew it wouldn't hit him. Kid's got good reflexes."

"Oh, well, it's good to know you only wanted to scorch him lightly rather than burn him to death," Andromeda said dryly. She gestured to Narcissa and the younger girl followed her into the room, shutting the door behind them. "What has he done now? Hasn't borrowed your broom again, has he?"

"It's about the only thing he _hasn't_ done." Bellatrix's tone was frustrated. "First, Mother caught him trying to filch half the wedding favours – I didn't even know he _liked_ sugared almonds – then he was spying on me and Rodolphus. He was trying to _blackmail_ Rodolphus, for crying out loud, by threatening to tell Aunt Walburga how far we'd gone before the wedding…"

"How far _have_ you gone?" Narcissa asked with interest. Bellatrix ignored her.

"He convinced Regulus to run off and play something with him just after Regulus had tried on his pageboy outfit – I don't know what they were _doing_ but the thing is absolutely filthy now. I swear, the child was swapped for a demon while still in the cradle. The sooner he gets sent off to school the better. It's hard enough arranging a wedding this quickly without him trying to get in the way every minute."

Andromeda patted her arm gently. "Maybe you're trying to do too much too fast?" she suggested. "I mean, why _are_ you having the wedding done so quickly? It's not…?" She didn't finish the question, but her eyes dropped enquiringly to Bellatrix's belly.

Bellatrix laughed sourly. "No, thank Merlin. The last thing I want once I've finally escaped this house is a little Sirius of my _own_ to raise. I can't imagine anything more hideous – no, let's just say that this summer will be busy."

"Busy?" Andromeda queried.

But Bellatrix didn't seem to be in a mood to elaborate. "Busy," she agreed with a sharp nod. "Besides, if you think I'd stay in this house for more months than I needed to just so Mother can ensure the wedding bouquet is the perfect shade of blue, you're crazy."

"My wedding's going to be green." Narcissa flopped back on the bed, closing her eyes. "Emerald green dresses for the bridesmaids, little green page-boy suits for Sirius and Regulus... I don't know about the bouquet yet. And I want a carriage drawn by unicorns…"

"Hark at the little dreamer." But Bellatrix's tone was more amused than unkind. "Mother's going to think she's died and gone to heaven when _you_ get married, Cissy – you'll probably spend _years_ planning the thing together. You do rather need a husband-to-be in order to get started though."

"Got one," Narcissa answered blissfully. "Lucius Malfoy."

"That's back on, is it?" Andromeda raised her eyebrows, poking her younger sister lightly in the stomach. "You make sure he's a bit nicer to you this time, Cissy, else Bella and I will be after him. You got that?"

"Someone's been mean to her?" Bellatrix glanced at Andromeda.

"Boy doesn't know how lucky he is to be dating a Black girl," Andromeda explained with a sniff. "If he makes her cry again, I'll… I'll curse him myself!"

The threat got a low laugh from her older sister. "Never thought I'd hear that from _you_, Andromeda. We'll get you interested in the Dark Arts yet!"

"I am right here, you know," Narcissa complained. "And she's over-reacting. It was just a silly argument. Nobody needs to curse anybody."

"Well, we'll see how well he behaves himself this time," Andromeda promised. She patted Narcissa's shoulder. "Come on then, dreamer, get up. Let's show Bella how pretty we look in those bridesmaid dresses, shall we?"

"I don't see why Regulus got to be a pageboy, and I didn't," Sirius complained, once the ceremony was over.

"At a guess, kiddo, it was something to do with the fact that you managed to annoy Bellatrix so thoroughly that only the fact that the Heir of the House of Black _not_ being here would set the gossips going got you an invite at all," Andromeda said mildly. "You can be somewhat of a pain when you set your mind to it, Sirius."

"It wouldn't matter if Bellatrix had a sense of _humour_ now and then." Sirius scowled. "And that guy she's marrying is awful. He threatened to use an Unforgivable Curse on me!"

"And what did you do to _him_ first, Sirius?" Andromeda asked patiently.

"Well, I might've been kind've watching them a bit," Sirius conceded grudgingly. "He didn't have to threaten that though!"

Andromeda laughed, ruffling her young cousin's hair. "Bella thinks you're a demon in disguise, and I'm half inclined to agree with her. You can be the absolute _limit_ sometimes."

"Only when people _ask_ for it," Sirius muttered. He scanned the crowd and abruptly brightened, turning to Andromeda. "They're setting out the buffet! Can I go?"

Andromeda caught his arm hastily, preventing him from making a quick escape, "Promise me first that you won't explode anything, set anything on fire, steal anyone's broom, spy on anyone or otherwise do anything to ruin this wedding."

Sirius squirmed, trying to get free. "There's _cake!_" he pleaded, as though that should settle it. "And ice-cream!"

"Promise me!" Andromeda gave him a little shake. "Promise me you'll behave yourself, my little imp, or you aren't going anywhere. Bella would never forgive me if I let you make a scene here."

"I promise." It was given reluctantly, but Andromeda released his arm as soon as he said it. Sirius gave a little whoop of joy and vanished into the crowd of guests – apparently in search of cake and ice-cream.

Behind her, Andromeda heard her mother's familiar laugh. "Walburga's got her hands full with that one," Druella remarked fondly. "I think it might just be the revenge of the fates for every time she commented on _your_ bad behaviour when you three were small."

"We weren't ever that bad, were we?" Andromeda asked.

"Sweetness, compared with Sirius, the three of you were positively _angelic_," Druella assured her. "You especially. I'd have Bella and her hair-trigger temper to deal with on the one hand, and Narcissa tantruming because I wouldn't buy her a pretty new dress on the other, and there you'd be in the middle, my wonderful placid middle child."

Andromeda smiled, her gaze seeking out Bellatrix in the throng of people, her older sister looking radiant in the white silk dress charmed to gleam and shimmer with light. "She looks happy, doesn't she?"

"Why, of course she does, dearest." Druella put her hand on her daughter's shoulder, her voice softening. "Feeling jealous? It'll be your turn soon enough."

"I guess – I don't know," Andromeda admitted. "It just seems… odd, I suppose. I mean, we barely even _know_ the man."

Druella laughed, "You've been reading those awful love stories again, dearest. Believe me; no woman can truly claim to know _any_ man until she's been married to him for a few years. It takes those years of being together – of coping because you have to, and making mistakes, and arguing – before you _really_ know each other, and love each other."

"Did you know Father?" Andromeda twisted to look at her mother.

"You know I didn't." Druella shook her head. "I'd barely even met the man in fact – it was all arranged through your parents in those days, you know." She gave a little laugh. "I remember, everyone was so excited because I was marrying up into the magnificent Black family, and there I was in the middle, trying not to show how terrified I was…"

"Terrified?"

"Oh yes." Her mother nodded. "It's normal to be scared, Andromeda. It's a big change for a young girl, becoming part of a whole other family." She grinned, looking mischievous. "And I don't mind telling you that your aunt was horribly intimidating too. I didn't dare even speak without being spoken to at dinner for months, in case she snapped at me!"

Andromeda could picture it easily – the young girl, away from home, among people who were almost strangers. "It must have been awful," she said softly.

"At first, yes," her mother agreed. "Until I learned to love your father. And then there were you three girls – that made it worth it." She patted Andromeda's hair, smoothing the dark curls. "We're so proud of you three, you know. We don't tell you that nearly enough."

"When did you fall in love with Father?" Andromeda asked, turning to face her mother fully.

Druella was silent, contemplating the question for a moment, "It think it was when Bella had scarlet fever," she said eventually. "You won't remember it – you were so tiny at the time, Andromeda! And Bella was only three – such a spiky little thing, even at that age, always so independent." She shook her head a little. "She never cried, poor baby, even when half her skin was peeling off. But her temperature went so high, and we were so scared – it seemed so _silly_ that I was in this family – maybe the most powerful family of wizards in the country, and yet we couldn't make her get better."

"What happened?" Even at seventeen, it was easy to revert to listening mode, a child being told a love story.

"Oh, she was in St Mungo's – complications, too much of a fever…" Druella shivered. "In those days, scarlet fever often developed into rheumatic fever – that doesn't happen so much now, thank Merlin. I hope for your sake that none of your children ever go through that – there is _nothing_ more terrifying than thinking you might lose one of your babies. You just feel so helpless – as though you would do _anything_ to be the one in that hospital bed rather than them."

She glanced over again at where Bellatrix was dancing, as though imagining her once more as that small, sick child. "We must have stayed at her bedside for days, your father and I. Your aunt had to take care of you for us – there was too much of a risk you would catch it otherwise. And we just sat there with her, waiting, watching, barely sleeping, bathing her poor skin, and just hoping she would get _better._"

"And she did?"

"Of course she did, dearest – doesn't she look healthy there to you?" Druella smiled. "But you can't do that – you can't sit there that long with someone, and be afraid with them, without starting to love them at least a little. Your father's a good man, Andromeda, and he loves you girls very much. It took _seeing_ it for me to learn that, and to love him."

It was a sad story, with a happy ending, and Andromeda sighed a little. "Do you think I'll feel like that, some day?"

"Of course you will" Druella assured her. "And so will Bellatrix with her new husband, and so will Narcissa sometime. Girls these days are so impatient sometimes – always wanting love at first sight. It's not love at first sight that matters, dearling – that's mainly infatuation, in any case. It's love you can measure in years, love that will keep you warm when you're old and tired that's important – and you don't get that any other way than working hard at a marriage and being patient."

Infatuation? Andromeda thought for a moment of Ted Tonks; of messy blond hair, of large kind hands and warming spells just when you needed them, and nodded slowly. Of course it was infatuation. Just the thrill of the difference of Muggle life to her own. What else could it be?

"I suppose so," she conceded.

"I know so." Druella squeezed her shoulder lightly. "Hush now. I think your sister's about to make a speech."

Indeed, people were settling back into their seats, a hush falling over those assembled as Bellatrix tapped lightly on a glass with a spoon.

"Rodolphus and I thank you all for coming here today," she began politely, "and I hope you've all had a good time thus far. The food and the dancing will be carrying on all evening, so I trust you will all remember this as a pleasant night."

It seemed a standard enough thank you speech. Andromeda turned, feeling something bounce off her shoulder, and caught the gaze of Sirius standing nearby.

The youngster grimaced at her, mouthing "_Boring!_" silently.

Andromeda shook her head at him sternly, whispering a firm "_Behave!"_ and scooping up the screwed-up napkin he had thrown, before turning her attention back to the speech.

Bellatrix was still talking. "But, joyous as the event of our union is, it is not _just_ for that we have gathered you here today," she went on. "Instead, we hope in time our own marriage will become a symbol of all pure-blood unions – of all _proper_ marriages.

"A plague has spread among us – a curse of laziness and low standards. We who are the best and greatest of the wizarding families – even we have allowed Muggles into our hearts and into our homes, allowing relatives to marry beneath themselves – allowing them to marry half-bloods, and worse, even Mudbloods.

"I call on you now to help scourge this illness from our midst. Cast out those who behave improperly - drive them from your families! And those who intrude from the Muggle world – who attend _our_ schools, take _our _jobs – they too must be shown that they are unwelcome. These people must be shown that they are outcasts in our world – drive them out before it is too late. Wizarding blood is growing weaker every year that we continue to allow this to spread and it _must_ be stopped!"

Rodolphus had also risen to his feet now, taking his new wife's hand and gazing at her adoringly as she continued.

"There is one already who is working to achieve this. Rodolphus and I have seen the truth already in what he speaks, and I hope the rest of you will soon do the same. Until then, I ask you all to raise your glasses in a toast – a toast to the coming new world order, and to the Dark Lord – to Lord Voldemort!"

There was a stunned silence for a few moments, a minute's shock before the clapping started. Confused, and a little disbelieving, Andromeda nevertheless noted that Aunt Walburga was the first to applaud.

The first, but hardly the last. Once it started, other people picked it up – tentatively at first, and then more enthusiastically – most glancing a little nervously at those around them as they clapped.

Looking behind her, Andromeda caught a glance of Sirius' face. The boy looked pale and shocked, more serious than she had ever seen him. Quietly, murmuring to her mother that she needed some air, she stood up, moving to take her cousin's hand and lead him outside.

The cool air came as a welcome shock, and she leaned back against the wall, trying to catch her breath and clear her head of the thoughts suddenly buzzing around it. There was pure-blood supremacy, of course; there had always been that. But the quiet knowledge, the security of being certain that you were better than everyone else – that somehow felt very different from this.

Feeling giddy and a little sick, Andromeda rested her head against the wall, hearing one thought repeating over and over in her mind.

What would this mean for wizards like Ted?


	3. Chapter 3

She had to tell Ted. That idea kept repeating in Andromeda's mind. It was there as she pulled herself back together and calmed Sirius, there as they went back into the wedding – smiling and joking about how unseasonable warm it was for British springtime, and still there, still repeating, at the end of the day as she helped her mother and Narcissa to pack the wedding gifts up for safe journey back to the Lestranges.

_She had to tell Ted._

What she expected Ted to do about it once told, she wasn't entirely sure. Quit magic entirely perhaps – though that would be a shame. He could at least be more careful – his usual flippant attitude wouldn't help him if the pure-blood families were turning to this. If _Bella_ were turning to this… she shivered. Loving her sister didn't make Andromeda blind to just how dangerous she could be if she really wanted to be. There was plenty of power there if Bellatrix chose to use it.

_But not to hurt anyone – she wouldn't hurt anyone, not badly, not really._

Again she remembered last Christmas, remembered that awful moment when Sirius had fallen. Who knew _what_ Bella could do, if she were provoked enough? If she would do that to her cousin, what could she do to someone she had no connection to?

It worried at her, made her distracted and clumsy. A glass slipped from her grip as she reached to pack it with the gifts, tumbling towards the floor.

"Hey!" Her mother's quick reflexes saved the glass. A quick movement and it stopped mid-fall, hovering an inch from the ground. "Let Bella at least get the breakables _home_ before anyone starts throwing them about."

"Sorry," Andromeda scooped it up, taking a firmer grip on it this time. "Got it now."

"Good girl," Druella peered at her daughter more closely. "You look quite pale. Not been drinking too much of that champagne? I know it fizzes like lemonade, but it does tend to be stronger than you think…"

She shook her head. "Just tired, I think."

That seemed to be an acceptable enough explanation. "Weddings will do that to you. Only thing worse than helping at a wedding for exhaustion, is your own. The number of couples too tired to enjoy their own wedding night," she clicked her tongue giving a quick shake of her head. "Still Bella and Rodolphus looked awake enough, don't you think?"

Discussing her sister's potential sex-life wasn't something Andromeda had ever anticipated having to do with her mother. "They looked fine," she said hastily, cheeks pinking a little.

"I hope _he_ didn't drink too much of the champagne. It can seem such a good idea faced with wedding nerves, but then you get to the night, and oh dear me…"

"Mother," Andromeda spoke hastily, wanting to interrupt before Druella could get any further into uncomfortable discussion and the realms of too much information. "What did you think of Bella's speech?"

"The speech?" Druella considered it placidly, carefully wrapping objects in tissue-paper as she packed them away. "I thought it was a very nice speech, dear. A little attention-hungry, but that's Bella all over. She came out of the womb screaming that people were to listen to her, and she's not stopped since."

"The bit about … about people who are Muggle-born? And the Dark Lord?" Andromeda asked hesitantly.

"Well, your sister always was politically minded." Druella answered. "That's never been a surprise to anyone. Heaven knows, all of the politics bore me rigid, but it pleases your father and your aunt, so I don't see the harm."

"I knew she was _political_ but…" Andromeda swallowed, tightening her grip on the toast-rack in her hand. "They were talking of driving out anyone without wizard parents, weren't they?"

"Yes, dear," Still, Druella's tone was calm, most of her attention on inspecting the gifts. "I expect that's probably for the best. It's not really kind to them bringing them into a world where they can't hope to keep up, is it?"

Andromeda thought of Ted, and the symbols she had seen in the library – Arithmancy far beyond her own understanding. "What if they could keep up?"

Druella laughed, as though the very idea were an amusing one. "Even considering one of them should manage to be freakishly strong - which I very much doubt could happen – you have to think of the child in these matters. Think of having magic among no-one who understood you – almost as bad as being a Squib among us. It's why we send Squibs away to nice, comfortable families without magic. It's much better for people to be among their own kind."

"But if they have magic _aren't_ wizards their own kind? If we send them our Squibs, shouldn't we take their children in return?" It was a thought she would never have dared voice to Aunt Walburga, Father, Bellatrix – even to Narcissa! Mother was different though. She might frown a little, but she never really got _angry._

"And how would they know they had magic, if that school of yours didn't go sending them the silly letters?" Druella asked in return. "Silly idea in the first place. Much better for them to lead happy, peaceful lives without having to know about it at all." She smiled at her daughter. "Of course, it's probably more complex than that – your father understands all the ins and outs of it, I'm sure. But that's the way it always seemed to me."

No letter, no magic, and Ted could have gone to that grammar school he'd talked about. It certainly seemed like a solution which would have made everybody concerned happy. Andromeda nodded, and then hesitated. "What about Muggle-borns who are already wizards though? I mean…they already _know_ they have magic – you can't just make them forget. Or if they just _do_ magic – we all did before we went to school."

"Oh, I don't know, Andromeda," Druella said comfortably. "This is all too many questions for me. Ask your father if you're so concerned – I'm sure he'll be happy to find another of you girls taking an interest in these things."

Perhaps he would, yet somehow Cygnus seemed a far less approachable person to ask these sorts of questions. "Maybe I will," Andromeda agreed, a little doubtfully.

"Good girl," Druella smiled at her. "I can finish packing the rest of these. Why don't you go and find your cousins, and make sure they're not eating the rest of the wedding cake or discovering champagne or something? You know what those two are like if someone's not watching them."

It was permission to escape. Narcissa had already slipped away from the packing sometime earlier – probably, Andromeda suspected, to say goodbye to Lucius Malfoy, having noted that young man and his parents amongst the wedding guests. She nodded, rising to her feet, and going to see just what Regulus and Sirius _had_ got up to. Hopefully it wouldn't be something too destructive this time.

"When I grow up," Sirius' voice was contemplative. "I'll be able to have a drink whenever I want, and eat cake and ice-cream whenever I want, and no-one'll be able to say "No," then." He kicked viciously at a clump of grass.

"Yeah, they'll just say you're a drunken old sot the way they do with Uncle Alphard instead," Regulus was scornful. "And then no-one'll ever listen to you and you'll smell funny all the time."

"Shows what you know, Regulus Black. They'll _have_ to listen to me, because I won't be the Heir then, will I? I'll be the one in charge then."

"Yeah, just like Dad's the one in charge now?" Regulus asked. "Oh, they _say_ you'll be in charge, but I bet it'll be someone like Mother who'll be in charge really. Or Bellatrix. You ought to be really glad she got married, because if she hadn't, I'd bet they'd have made you marry her." His face lit up with mischievous glee as this new thought occurred to him. "Of course, _now_ you'll probably have to marry Narcissa or Andromeda or something!"

"I will _not!"_ It was not something Sirius had previously had to consider, and he grimaced in horror at his younger brother's suggestion.

"Bet you will though!" Delighted at having managed to strike home, Regulus bounced up and down a little. "Mother's _Dad's_ cousin because they wanted to make sure we were just as Black as we _could_ be, and you'll have to be the one to father the _next_ Heir so…"

"Shut _up!_" Sirius grabbed at him, but Regulus was already darting away, well-used to keeping out of his brother's reach.

"Andromeda!" Spying the older girl, Regulus made a beeline, racing to hide behind her. "Sirius is picking on me again!"

"Don't bully your little brother, Sirius." The rebuke was automatic, too often needed around these two.

Sirius came to an abrupt halt in front of her, face a tragic mask of betrayal. "But he said I had to _marry_ you!"

"I'm not sure whether I should be worried that he suggested it, or offended about your clear lack of enthusiasm," Andromeda said dryly. "Regulus, I swear you ask for half the thumps your brother gives you."

Regulus peered out from behind her, secure that – despite her words – Andromeda would keep him safe. "I only said that cousins have to marry sometimes, 'specially when it's the Heir!" he protested. "And that's true – and you're our cousin, and Bella's _married_ now."

"I'm _not_ marrying you or Narcissa!" Sirius insisted. "It'd just be _weird!"_

"Mother and Dad did…"

"Hush – Sirius, stop that!" Andromeda scolded as the boy tried to lunge at Regulus again. "No-one's marrying _either_ of you two imps for a long time – especially not until you've dropped some of your more interesting habits like picking your noses – so you really don't have to make it a concern right now."

"I shan't marry anyone until I want to!" Sirius declared imperiously. "I shall be the Heir, and if I marry, it will be someone _I_ want, not some awful girl like Narcissa. And if I can't… well then, I won't marry anyone at all."

Regulus snickered. "Mother's never going to let you get away with that, you know."

"Regulus!" This time it was his turn to be scolded. "Stop taunting your brother."

"It's true though, isn't it Andromeda?" Wide brown eyes could look so guileless when their owner wished it. "He'll _have_ to marry and have a son, won't he, whether he wants to or not?"

"Uncle Alphard never!"

"Hush," Andromeda shushed them again. "It _is_ possible to discuss something without shouting at the tops of your voices. A little quieter please." She took a boy in each hand, gripping their shoulders to stop them scuffling, crouching a little to look at them. "It is true that you – _both_ of you, Regulus, so you can stop that silly smirking – will eventually be expected to marry into good families, and have children, yes. But that's a long way away, and nothing either of you really have to worry about now. And it's _very_ unlikely either of you will be marrying either Cissy or I. I know your parents did, but that was a lot of years ago, and people almost never do that now. By the time you two are thinking about getting married, the chances are we'll already have babies of our own to take care of." She looked from one young face to the other, and couldn't resist a grin. "Besides, after so long living with you two, if you think _either_ of us would sign up to live with you permanently, you have another think coming."

"I still can't see why we have to if Uncle Alphard didn't." Sirius said sulkily.

"Well, Uncle Alphard was never meant to inherit the Black family fortunes, dear," Andromeda said patiently. "And even then, I believe there was a good deal of fuss made about it at the time." She ruffled his hair, straightening up. "Besides, you wouldn't _really_ want to end up hanging about other people's families forever as he does, would you? You want your _own_ family."

"I guess. I don't know," Sirius looked mulish still. "I don't think I want to inherit all this stuff if it means everyone gets to make me do things. I'd rather not get anything, and do what _I _want."

"Everyone has to do things a little bit the way the other people want them to, Sirius, whether they inherit anything or not," Andromeda patted his shoulder. "It would be an awfully selfish way to live otherwise, not making anyone happy but yourself."

"I don't mind doing _some_ things the way other people want. I just want to be able to choose which ones," Sirius protested. "Ones I don't mind doing." He looked up at Andromeda, and for a moment the boyish face showed the clear shadow of the man Sirius would grow into. Looking down at him, Andromeda knew without doubt that if there was one thing _this_ youngster would never have to worry about, it was finding someone to marry him.

He stared up at her, features dark and sullen as he studied her for a moment before asking. "Don't _you_ mind?"

Andromeda opened her mouth to say that no, of course she didn't, that she was quite happy to do what was expected of her. Unexpectedly though, Ted was there in her mind again, the image of his blonde hair and sunny smile too clear for her to answer.

She was privately grateful when Regulus took advantage of his brother's distraction to start a shoving match, and the conversation came to an abrupt end.

-

Slytherins were good at getting what they wanted, and what Andromeda wanted right now was to know that her sister's speech had been harmless. A few days had allowed her to calm herself down on the subject, reassure herself that her sudden rush of emotions had been an over-reaction. Clearly, as Mother had said, all Bella and the others _really_ intended to do was to keep children from Hogwarts who didn't even really need invites in the first place. It wouldn't _hurt _anybody. She'd just… heard it wrong, and panicked.

Such private reassurances somehow didn't seem to work entirely. A small sharp spike of worry remained, poking at her constantly, stopping her from allowing herself to forget it. She might have asked Bella what the real plans were, but her sister spent all of her time with her new husband now. She would have asked Father, despite her doubts about how he might view such questions, but he seemed to spend most of his waking hours of late locked up in the study with Aunt Walburga. Even when they did come out, both of them seemed tired and busy, too rushed to talk. It wasn't a good time to approach them with questions.

That busyness fed Andromeda's worry however, as did the increasing amounts of people coming to the house. The house seemed frantic with visitors at present, with one pure-blood after another appearing at the door, each one hurried into the study without much time to talk.

The last days of the Easter holidays were already speeding away. All too soon it would be time to return to school, and then any chance of finding out what was really going on would be gone for another whole term. Of course, it was unlikely to be anything much – but if it was, might that term be too long to wait?

It was that thought that led to her standing outside the door of her sister's old room, disabling the wards and guarding curses which Bellatrix had left with quick words and wand movements. Bellatrix hadn't taken everything with her yet, that much Andromeda knew for certain. It took time to pack everything in boxes and get it moved on, and with the hurry to arrange the wedding that time simply hadn't been available. Clothes had been packed up and sent on, and Bellatrix had taken her new broomstick and a few books, but mostly the room should still be in a similar state to what it had been when she had left.

And surely Bellatrix hadn't done all her wedding preparations and readied herself for her speech without leaving _something_ behind which would spell out her true intent?

Andromeda gave one last glance around to check the coast was clear and nobody was coming up the hallway before she reached to push the bedroom door open.

She stepped quickly through the door. Only when it was firmly shut behind her did she allow herself to glance around, and then she froze. Perhaps if she had looked before coming in she would have seen her mother already standing in there.

Druella was staring at her with a look of such horror and disappointment that Andromeda couldn't even seem to find it in her to stammer out an excuse for her invasion. She stood like a startled rabbit, staring back, frozen to the spot.

"Oh, Andromeda," The tone was enough to make Andromeda's stomach turn over with sudden guilt. She had never heard her mother sound so _hurt_ before. "First the Mudblood boy, and now this? How _could_ you?"

Andromeda swallowed, trying to quell her sudden sick feeling. "I'm not – I only came to borrow a book!" she protested, taking a step back. "I just – I thought Bella might have a copy of one I needed for school, and she's not here and…"

"Stop," Druella was shaking her head, looking almost ready to cry. "Oh Merlin, please stop. Oh, Andromeda, when will you stop _lying?_"

"I'm not!" But Andromeda's voice had retreated to a squeak.

"We know about the Mudblood," Druella took a step towards her. "We know about the sneaking around – just like you're sneaking around now. We used to be so proud of you. What happened to my little girl?"

It made it worse somehow, that it was her mother saying this. Bellatrix shouted, but everyone knew Bella had a temper. Narcissa cried, but Cissy's world ultimately centred around Cissy – it was nothing to take too seriously. Father and Aunt Walburga could scold – but they would scold about _anything_ from bad school marks to being untidy at dinner.

Mother almost never did any of that though. Druella had always been the one that Andromeda had gone to, secure in the knowledge that it was very rare she would get angry or upset about anything.

To have her looking at her like that… it made Andromeda's heart hurt.

"I'm sorry," The lies weren't working, and she gave them up, hearing her voice crack. "I was only looking – I didn't think it would cause harm to _look!_ I – Ted's a friend is all."

"A friend who means so much to you that you'd break into your sister's room?" Druella asked astutely. "A friend you'd betray your family for? A friend you'd lie for – oh, Andromeda." And now it was her voice that cracked, and she sank down on the bed covering her face with her hands.

"Oh, Mother, please don't cry!" Horrified, Andromeda rushed to her, only to be pushed away. "I won't see him anymore, I'll behave – oh, Mother, _don't!"_

"You said that before, and here you are, at it again." Druella's voice was choked. "How do you expect me to trust you after that?"

"I didn't mean to!" Such an insubstantial excuse when you were caught and in trouble. Again, she tried to comfort her mother, trying again to slide an arm around her.

This time, Druella didn't just pull away but raised her hand, slapping Andromeda sharply across her face. "And yet you did," she snapped tearfully. "I'm so disappointed in you, Andromeda. No-one from this family will ever be able to trust you again. You've let everybody down."

Andromeda stared at her, speechless, feeling her cheek sting and tears pricking at her eyes. Mother never _hit!_

"How can you stand there and call yourself a Black when you're standing there, plotting yet again to meet up with a Mudblood – to steal things from your sister for him even?" Druella demanded. "I don't know how I could ever have given birth to such an ungrateful child. Bella and Cissy never did anything like this!"

"I thought you said anything was fixable," Andromeda said quietly, trying hard not to cry.

"Apparently I under-estimated what you were capable of," Druella's face was tear-stained still, but her voice was fierce. "Pack your bags."

For a moment, Andromeda could only gape at her. "What?"

"I said, pack your bags," Druella repeated. "I don't want you in here, in this house. You're a bad influence on Cissy and the boys, and I can't trust you. Pack your bags, and get out."

Andromeda stared at her, mouth suddenly dry. A few hours ago she had been teasing Regulus, putting off packing to go back to school, and now apparently she had to pack for good. And not because of Aunt Walburga, someone _known_ to have fits of temper and say such things, but because of her mother, her mother who loved her, her mother who she would never believe such things of.

No. Her mother who she would _never_ believe this of.

An old conversation with Bellatrix came to mind, and she scrabbled at her belt suddenly, pulling out her wand.

"What are you doing, Andromeda?" Druella's voice went high with fear and warning. "Put that away, dear, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

But Andromeda was already pointing it, keeping her hand steady with an effort.

"_Riddikulus!_" Her voice was shaky, but the spell worked its magic. Druella shrank down instantly, turning from an angry tearful woman into an angry tearful four-year old girl, dressed in clothes which were far too large for her. Andromeda laughed weakly, as much out of relief as genuine humour and the child glared at her and scurried away, tripping over her over-large skirt as she ran to hide in Bellatrix's wardrobe.

Andromeda sat down heavily on the bed, trying to fight the sensation that the laughter could turn to tears if she weren't careful. "It was only a Boggart," she said out loud, as much to reassure herself as anything. Only a Boggart – but people underestimated how terrifying they could be.

Trust Bellatrix to leave one to guard her room.

It was a few minutes before she gathered herself enough to get on with the job she had come to do. It was harder than she had expected with her own fear, her own terror of letting the family down so vividly shown to her and when she did get up, her movements were slow, reluctant, as she started to carefully open drawers.

There seemed to be so much to sort through, and most of it not even closely related to what Andromeda was looking for. Quotes and bills from the caterers who had worked at the wedding, and the same from the people who had done the flowers, the dresses, the marquee - all of these had to be taken and put to one side, kept in order lest Bellatrix should notice they had been interfered with. Next came the lists - a whole bundle of them, most of them with each item neatly ticked off in black ink. Lists of things that needed to be packed, lists of things that needed to be organised - half of them were in Druella's handwriting rather than Bellatrix's. Their mother had clearly taken a careful interest in making sure the girl did not forget anything in all the chaos of planning everything.

It was only right at the bottom of a drawer that Andromeda came across anything remotely interesting. Her fingers closed over the bundle of letters, most still bearing the imprint of an owl's claws - and pulled them out gently.

For a moment, she sat just looking at them. This felt wrong. It felt like something Sirius would do even - someone too young and mischievous to have learnt better. Andromeda _was_ old enough to know better than to go rifling through her sister's possessions, whatever the reason, and reading private letters wasn't something she would even _think_ of doing normally.

If, as she hoped, Bellatrix's speech meant nothing serious at all, then Andromeda would _still_ have done that. And even if Bellatrix never found out, _she_ would know.

She had almost decided to put them away unread when a noise behind her made her turn guiltily, fearing that now she really had been caught.

She stared. Facing the door was an old woman, her grey hair tangled and dirty, straggling to a point halfway down her back. Her dress was worn to tatters, and the acrid smell drifting from it made Andromeda wrinkle her nose in disgust. Most awful of all though, the woman's right arm was missing up to her elbow, and from the stump dripped a horrid mixture of blood and yellow pus.

Clearly it was the boggart again, and after a moment's shock Andromeda could see Sirius in front of her, the boy's face pale as he cringed back. But what on earth was the fear?

The old woman opened her mouth, revealing yellow, rotting teeth, and spoke in a singsong voice;

_"Shame on ye who intrude here,_

_Showing no caution, showing no fear,_

_Shame on ye who come to cause harm,_

_Ye shall replace my missing arm!"_

A high-pitched cackle seemed to come, not from the woman but from the stump itself as she gave an awful grin, and stepped forward to grab at Sirius. Until then, the youngster had seemed glued to the spot with pure terror, but now he roused himself, bellowing and struggling against what seemed to be an iron grip.

Hastily, Andromeda pulled out her wand, pointing it at the old woman. "Riddikulus!"

It wasn't hard to change the old woman's image - not compared to the difficulty she had had working on what seemed to be her mother. The grey hair puffed into a white dandelion cloud around the woman's head, the faded blue dress turned to a pastel blue frock, and the pus and blood vanished away. The image wavered, and shrank, colours shifting and brightening.

It didn't change much, but just enough. Just enough to switch the old woman away from the stuff of nightmares to what she _should_ be.

Andromeda;s laughter wasn't feigned as she held her arms out to her young cousin. "Sirius, _really_? _Babbitty Rabbitty_?"

The boggart fled back to its wardrobe, and Sirius ran to her, clinging to Andromeda in a way that he hadn't since he was much smaller. She relented a little when she felt just how tightly he was clinging, and the shivering he was trying very hard to hide.

"Shush then," she soothed, stroking his back. "Calm down. It's gone now, and it was only a boggart - only fears and fancy and imagination. And from that thing, you've got quite the imagination, kiddo."

"You mustn't tell Regulus," Sirius blurted. "Or anyone, but especially not Regulus!"

He seemed to be on the edge of tears, and Andromeda pulled him over to sit on the edge of the bed. It was so easy sometimes to forget that the sometimes annoying fearless boy was still only a little boy, no matter how much bravado he managed to give off, or how many scrapes he managed to get into. Just a vulnerable little boy, with a little boy's fears still.

"I won't tell anyone," she promised. "Calm down now. You're upsetting yourself. Deep breath, come on."

Obediently, Sirius breathed deeply, and dragged his sleeve across his nose, wiping it. For once, Andromeda didn't scold him about the silvery streak left behind. He sniffed hard, and tried to smile shakily. "Regulus would laugh so much."

"Maybe," Andromeda admitted, knowing too well the mocking abilities of younger siblings. "But he doesn't have to know."

"Right," Sirius sniffed again. "I know it's only a story," he said defensively, "but it _is_ a scary story, isn't it?"

"I can see how it could be," Andromeda agreed carefully, not wanting to hurt the boy's feelings any further. "Especially now I've seen how you've seen her."

Ten years old - just young enough to still be afraid of fairytale monsters, just old enough to be embarrassed about it. Still, in a way it was a blessing that Sirius was still young enough and innocent enough not to fear bigger things - things that actually could hurt him.

Sirius shuddered. "Father used to read to us, and do the voices. And I liked that most of the time, but Babbitty Rabbitty… I used to have nightmares about that poor woodcutter who chopped off her arm by mistake, and how she hunted him down and took his arm…"

"It's meant to teach you about consequences for being careless and thoughtless, dear," Andromeda reminded him, turning just a touch sterner. "A lesson which it wouldn't do you any harm to take on board now and then. You know you shouldn't have been in here."

"The door was open!" Sirius protested guiltily.

"No, it wasn't." Andromeda corrected. "What you mean is that you saw the curses were off the door and thought you might be able to sneak in without anyone knowing."

"Well, maybe." Naughty, Sirius might be, but he didn't even attempt to cling onto a lie once he knew he was caught out. He eyed the letters on the bed, noticing them for the first time. "Anyway, I bet _you_ oughtn't to be here either. I bet you're not meant to have those!"

It was Andromeda's turn to look guilty, flushing as she reached for the letters. "Shush. I was just looking."

"Without asking?" The fears of only a few minutes go seemed to have vanished away. Sirius' face lit up wicked glee.

Andromeda could almost hear his mind calculating the blackmail potential. "Don't you even think of telling anyone," she warned hastily. "Remember, I know about _Babbitty Rabbitty_!"

It was enough warning to take Sirius quickly reconsider any plans he might have to that end. "I won't," he assured her quickly. "I'm not a stupid tattletale like Regulus anyway. Tell me what you're looking for, though. Have you found any dirty bits?"

The question was so unexpected that Andromeda just blinked at him for a moment. "What?"

"You know," Sirius said impatiently. "_Dirty_ bits. In the letters. From Rodolphus."

"You are ten years old, and shouldn't even know about such things, much less be seeking them out," Andromeda said severely. "And no, I haven't. I haven't even read the letters, and if I was I wouldn't be looking for that."

Sirius pouted. "You're no fun," he complained. "What were you looking for then, if it weren't for that?"

Andromeda hesitated. Sometimes the only way to get rid of Sirius and actually be allowed to get on with things was to tell him the truth. Could he be trusted though? "Do you remember Bella's speech at the wedding?"

"Yes," Sirius' voice went flat at its mention, the boy's usual brightness disappearing.

"Well, I'm just looking to see if there's any… details or anything. I mean, I would ask her," Andromeda said, a touch of defensiveness in her voice, "but she's not here to ask. I'm sure it's nothing much really – I mean, I know she likes to sound dramatic but she wouldn't really _do_ anything, but…"

Something in the look Sirius was giving her made her break off. "What?"

"You're nuts if you think she wouldn't do anything," Sirius said scornfully. "She'd have got rid of you, you know, over that guy there was a row about at Christmas."

Andromeda hoped that her face didn't show anything of the sudden sick plunge her stomach had taken. That came a little _too_ close to the boggart's manifestation for comfort. With an effort, she kept her voice composed. "Don't be silly, dear. She wouldn't do anything to me. I'm her _sister!_"

"Yeah, and I'm her cousin, and she still knocked me off her broom." The Christmas incident was clearly something Sirius had neither forgiven or forgotten.

"You had been awfully naughty, dear," Andromeda reminded him.

He shook his head stubbornly. "Drive people who don't behave properly out of our families, she said. She was _talking_ about you, and you never even realised it? It was _obvious!_"

"She was talking about people who did other things," Andromeda insisted weakly. "Bad things. Not just little things like that."

Sirius stared pointedly at the bundle of letters she was still holding. "I bet _they_ say otherwise."

"You're over-reacting," Andromeda said firmly, and stood up. "And so was I. We really shouldn't be in here. I'll just put these away, and then we'll go, and I don't think we need to say anything more about the matter."

"Read one," Sirius also stood up, his gaze intense. "Just one. You'll see I'm right."

Andromeda looked at him for a long moment before she sat back down, and unfolded the top letter with a sigh. "I cannot believe I am taking advice from a badly behaved ten year old boy. That's never a good start to anything."

"Read it aloud!" Sirius demanded, shifting impatiently from foot to foot.

Reluctantly, Andromeda began "_Bellatrix. I cannot put into words how happy I am that your father has approved my marriage proposal. I understand that this will be a marriage of convenience for both of us, but I believe it is an alliance which will benefit both us and the Dark Lord greatly. I understand your initial hesitation on the matter, but believe me, the way we can best serve the Dark Lord is…" _she broke off, her cheeks colouring. "We really shouldn't be reading this. It's private."

"What's a marriage of convenience?" Sirius seemed unaffected by her discomfort.

"It means…" Andromeda hesitated, trying to put it into words a ten year old would understand. "It means they weren't marrying because they loved each other. They were marrying for other reasons."

"For the Dark Lord?"

"It would seem so," Andromeda skimmed the rest of the letter, reading quickly "It doesn't seem as though she were very keen on it either. I wonder if Father knew that."

"Silly reason to marry someone," Sirius decided. "If she liked him so much as to do things for him she ought to have married _him_ not some random guy who said it'd make him happy. Stupid girly thinking."

"Hush," Andromeda was reading still, her face settling into a frown as she read further.

"What?" Sirius climbed onto the bed behind her, trying to read over her shoulder. "Did you find the dirty bits?"

"No. Be quiet," Andromeda pushed him away, her attention on the letter. She finished it, and set it on down on the bed for a moment before biting her lip and reaching for the next on the pile.

"Don't. I want to _see!_" Wisely, Sirius didn't try to look over her shoulder again though, again going straight to the source and rooting through the letters still in the pile.

"Sirius! I was keeping them in order!"

"Well, you're not going to find anything interesting if they're only just even _talking_ about getting married, are you? That was ages ago." Sirius had had years of practise avoiding annoyed relatives, and easily evaded Andromeda's attempts to snatch the letters back. "That was _ages_ ago. You need one that happened after that."

"Yes, well, there's a way to do these things, and it doesn't involve deliberately making just as big a mess as you possibly can!" Andromeda grabbed at his collar. "Give me those!"

Sirius tried to jerk away. There was an ominous ripping sound from his shirt, and Andromeda was left holding the collar as he stumbled forward, dropping the letters.

"_Sirius!"_

"It's okay. Mother'll get a house-elf to fix it. She's used to it," Sirius said calmly, unconcerned about his ruined shirt. He bundled the letters up from the floor, shoving them higgledy piggledy at Andromeda. "Here."

"You are spoilt, and far too used to having other people to clear up your messes for you," Andromeda said severely, gazing with some dismay at the now crumpled papers. "How are we ever going to get these back in order?"

"I guess you'll just have to read all of them." The suggestion was given with a smug smirk – Sirius didn't feel the need to hide his triumph over using such an underhand trick to get his own way. "The interesting ones should be nearer the top now at least."

"One day, you'll get the spanking you deserve, and no-one will have any sympathy for you," Andromeda said crossly. Amusing as her cousin could be from time to time, it was difficult not to feel annoyed when presented with such a large task – especially when she wasn't even meant to be in the room in the first place.

Still, there was no other way to deal with the matter than actually _dealing_ with it. With a sigh she sat back down on the bed, trying to sort the letters back into date order, applying a small Smoothing Charm to each one as she worked through them. With a little luck, when Bellatrix did come to collect the rest of her things there would be too much to do for her to notice anything had been interfered with.

Despite Sirius' aims, it was actually easier to sort _without_ really reading any of the letters. She settled into a routine of skimming each page, looking for the date and any sign there should be more pages, quickly building a new pile. She had already worked through a good fifth of the scattered letters when Sirius spoke up behind her, the boy's voice suddenly subdued.

"Uh, Andromeda? Maybe you ought to look at this one."

Andromeda glanced at him curiously, but reached for the letter, glancing over it quickly. It was one she had already looked at once, and dismissed, adding oit to the pile. "What about it? It's just dry political stuff – very du-"

She cut herself off, mid-word as the paragraph Sirius had indicated caught her eye. Now she read it properly.

"_Obviously it is of benefit to all of those concerned to eliminate any corruptive influences invading the wizarding world as quickly and tidily as possible. In some situations, persuasion may be sufficient to achieve our ends, however in other cases coercion may be necessary, and in the worst cases it will be desirable to remove those elements completely._

_The method of dealing with such issues must be tailored to the problem at hand. Clearly, it is preferable that as little pure blood be spilt as possible, however it must be clear that being hesitant in the short-term over such things may cause more damage in the long term. Sometimes the Muggle infection must be removed completely in order to prevent the disease being allowed to spread."_

"He's talking about killing people, isn't he?" The chirpiness had gone out of Sirius' voice completely now.

Andromeda fought to keep her own voice calm, not wanting to alarm the boy further. "Yes, Sirius, I'm afraid he might be," she said as matter-of-factly as she could, "but I'm sure it's all just theoretical. It can't really mean what it seems to mean. Let me see if I can find the letter after that."

She dug through the pile, looking hopefully for something that would contradict the letter in her hand. There were different names on the letters - not all from the Lestrange boy. It seemed Bellatrix had been engaging in a good deal of correspondence of late.

All of them however seemed to have the same basic tone.

"…_while of course we accept there will be danger, we are all of course willing to dedicate ourselves to the cleansing of the wizarding world."_

"_I must applaud your work. It is unusual for one so young to be able to take such a serious interest in such a matter, and I am glad that you too realise how strongly it impacts upon us all. I must warn you however, that it is likely to be a bloody business…"_

"_We must not be mistaken – this is a war that we are fighting – a war that we dare not lose if we do not wish our world to be changed beyond all recognition."_

She kept reading, a cold fear beginning to grow inside her, keeping the letters away from Sirius now, not wanting the youngster to see how deeply this went – not wanting him to _know_.

Better if the largest thing he had to be afraid of remained a fairytale character.

The final straw came in a letter from Bellatrix's then husband-to-be, sent just after Christmas.

"_It is a fortunate thing if, as you say, your mother has managed to talk sense into your sister. Girls can get such silly notions into their heads – the Prewitt girl is a case in point. Watch carefully though, and be certain that her behaviour is only a phase, a passing whimsical silliness, and not some deeper sign of inner imperfection. Such imperfections can spring up unexpectedly – the Prewitt girl was from an excellent background, and no-one could have expected her to elope as she did. Keep me informed, as if the situation develops further, as you say, it may indeed need to be dealt with."_

For a moment, Andromeda thought she might throw up. _Dealt with?_ What did that even mean anyway? She stared at the letter, eyes running over and over the words as though rereading them might change them somehow. Bella wouldn't… Bella _couldn't_… could she?

"Andromeda?" She had almost forgotten that Sirius was still there, watching her. "What have you found?"

Startled, she folded the letter up quickly, before he could try looking over her shoulder again. "Nothing. Just as I thought – a mountain out of a molehill."

Sirius wasn't fooled for a moment. "Then why did you go all pale?"

"Because I just realised how long we'd been in here for," she replied firmly. It took an effort to make her voice brisk, but she stood up quickly, straightening the quilt they had been sitting on. "Come on. We need to tidy this lot up and get it put away.

After a moment's hesitation, she slid the letter into her pocket – surely Bellatrix wouldn't notice that only _one _was missing – before she started to gather the rest up.

"Aren't you even going to read the rest?" Sirius asked, reluctantly getting up.

Andromeda shook her head. "Nothing else I need to know."

Not the truth, not at all the truth, but it had to be the truth as far as Sirius was concerned. Whatever was going on here, it wasn't anything a ten year old needed to be involved in.

-

"Father?" Andromeda tapped at the study door gently.

It had taken another day before she had talked herself into this. Much as she loved her father, he could hold such strong views on things sometimes. Political discussions at dinner had been known to result in arguments that stopped people speaking to each other for _days_. It was easier, mostly, to talk about something else.

But if Father didn't know about what the Lestrange boy was leading Bella into, then shouldn't he? And really, some of it had to be the Lestrange boy. Bellatrix might already have been interested in politics, but she wouldn't ever think of something like that unless someone pushed her, would she? Not of _killing_ people, not in the awful matter-of-fact way all the letters had seemed to mention it.

Her sister wouldn't let anyone talk like that about Andromeda, not unless something was _wrong_. It had to be something wrong. To think otherwise hurt too much.

"Father?"

"What is it?" The study door was jerked out, and Cygnus looked down at his daughter, face tired and exasperated. "I'm very busy, Andromeda."

"I know," Andromeda admitted, and held out the mug she was carrying as though it were a peace offering. "I thought a cup of tea might help. You've been in here _hours_."

He glanced at it, seeming surprised by that statement, and reached to take the mug. "Thank you."

"Mother says to tell you that if you're hungry, she saved dinner for you and she can soon heat it up again when you're ready." It helped to have a genuine message to give her father, and Andromeda rattled it off quickly.

"Tell her I'll be a while yet," he replied flatly. Cupping his hands around the mug, he looked quite ready to return to his work, and shut the door on her.

It left little time to hesitate, and Andromeda spoke quickly out of necessity. "Father? What is it you're working on exactly? People are all so _busy._"

It was at least enough to make Cygnet pause in the door. "Political stuff, dear. You wouldn't be interested." He shook his head at her, taking a quick gulp of his tea. "It's busy now, but things are going to be a lot better for everyone once we have things sorted out."

It was a phrase that might have been a lot more reassuring had Andromeda not seen similar wording used over and over again in the letters to Bellatrix. She swallowed, feeling her heart beat just a little faster. "Father? What do you think of Bella's husband?"

This time Cygnus' look was exasperated, and he sighed impatiently. "Andromeda, sweetheart, I think he's a very nice man, but I really don't have _time_ to discuss that right now."

"No – listen, it's _important_, Father!" Seeing her chance to talk fast disappearing, Andromeda almost gabbled the words out. "I don't think Bella liked him – I don't think she wanted to marry him!"

"Why can you girls never bring this kind of crisis to your mother? She's better at this kind of thing." The question seemed more addressed to the world in general than to Andromeda herself. "Andromeda, I assure you, your mother and I would never have let your sister marry into a situation where she was unhappy. I spoke to her myself about the matter. It was her who pushed to be married so _quickly_ for Merlin's sake."

Andromeda bit her lip, not wanting to believe that. It made it easier if this were something Bella had been unwilling to do. "I think he made her somehow," she said stubbornly.

"I have a whole stack of letters to reply to, and _now_ you feel is the appropriate time to bring this up?" Cygnus rubbed his forehead tiredly. "What brought this all on, anyhow?"

Andromeda hesitated, unable to tell the truth about the letter currently burning a hold in her pocket. "Just something Bella said."

"Don't tell me – they've had their first argument and she's written to say she thinks the world's coming to an end?" Cygnus guessed incorrectly. "Andromeda, all young couples argue. It doesn't mean they shouldn't have married, or that there's something wrong. It's just something they have to work through – on their own, mostly."

"It's not that – I just really think he's _bad_ for her!" Andromeda insisted. "He'll make her to things she doesn't want to," she said, and hesitated again before adding. "and he doesn't like me."

Her father's expression was baffled. "Dearest, other than at the wedding, he's barely _met_ you."

"I know. But he _doesn't_!" It sounded silly, Andromeda knew, but she couldn't think how better to put it without revealing that she'd been where she shouldn't have.

"I'm sure once he's had more time to get acquainted with the family he'll love you just as much as the rest of us," Cygnus said firmly. "I really have to get back to work now, Andromeda. If you're concerned, talk to your mother."

"But Father…"

"No," he said firmly, and reached to give her shoulder a quick light pat. "Things will be fine, dear, you'll see. But you're old enough now to understand that sometimes I have to work rather than talk, and this is one of those times."

He gulped down the rest of the tea before handing Andromeda the now-empty mug. "Ask your mother if she could bring me dinner on a tray in an hour or so."

Defeated, Andromeda's shoulder's sagged. "Yes father," she agreed meekly, and turned to go, no closer to what she had wanted to know. She couldn't _make_ him talk to her after all.


	4. Chapter 4

When she packed to go back to school after Easter, Andromeda ended up packing the letter with her own things. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but the choice fell between that, leaving it in her own room to be discovered, or facing the boggart again in order to return it.

She could have destroyed it of course, but somehow that seemed more wrong than just taking it had been. It wasn't hers to destroy. She would just have to hang onto it until she had a chance to put it back or something.

The summer term always seemed to be the shortest one. In winter and spring the year seemed to stretch out forever in front of you, but after Easter the weeks seemed to just gallop towards the long summer holidays. It wasn't that she deliberately avoided talking to Ted about the wedding as she had intended to, but there were classes, and catching up with friends, and enjoying the first proper sun of the year, and more classes, and somehow three weeks passed by without her even realising it, time slipping away between her fingers.

Not until she came down to breakfast one morning to find the entire school in a state of excitement over the morning's Quibbler did she think of it again.

"There's been a murder!" Octavia Pritchard greeted her with the words before she had even sat down, sliding a copy of the newspaper of the table to her.

"Not necessarily a murder – they don't know that yet!" someone else protested. "It could be an accident.

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Branwyn, there was a massive skull shape with a _snake _coming out of it over the body. Unless Holthgar was practicing really _weird_ illusion spells, I doubt it was an accident."

Mind whirling at the news, Andromeda looked at the paper her friends had pushed in front of her. The photographer had managed to get a good picture of the skull – a green shape outlined clearly in the sky, serpent curling out of its mouth like a stuck-out tongue.

It was terrifying.

"Holthgar," she repeated, trying the name out loud to try to work out why it sounded so familiar.

"Godwin Holthgar," Octavia qualified, and sighed impatiently when Andromeda looked blank. "_You_ know. Works in the Ministry?"

"She won't know," Achilla Nestes interrupted. "We're not all as obsessed with politics as you are, Octavia." She smiled at Andromeda, clarifying quickly. "Works in the Muggle Rights Department – keeps on making speeches about how we should be working on slowly reconciling them to the fact that we exist rather than deceiving them all the time. Sound familiar at all?"

"Oh… yes," Andromeda nodded, because that did ring a bell. "I think my father's ranted about him over dinner a few times."

Apparently that was a familiar sentiment from the number of nods around the table at that statement.

"My father says he ought to lose his job after that last speech."

"My mother reckons he only got the job anyway because he went to school with the Minister."

"Yeah well, _my_ Dad says the whole Department's a waste of money and ought to be abolished."

"He was pretty much asking for it, in any case," a boy drawled. That voice was familiar, and Andromeda glanced up quickly to catch Lucius Malfoy's gaze. He smiled at her coolly, and went on. "Someone was bound to shut him up sooner or later. It was only a matter of time if he kept running his mouth off like that."

Achilla had already turned to page 5, and was studying the smaller print that outlined the finer details of the story. "Gruesomely killed, it says here. They say his face looked so awful they didn't want to photograph him. They reckon someone had to have used the _Crucio_ curse on him to make him look like he was in that much pain. Murder by Unforgivable they're saying!"

"Still reckon it was an accident, Branwyn?" Octavia asked teasingly.

The other girl reddened. "Well, it could have been a spell that went very _painfully_ wrong," she said defensively. "I'm just saying that we shouldn't judge until we know all the facts, that's all."

"What's to know?" Lucius asked calmly. "He was a stupid man who wasn't sacked for far too long, and he managed to upset the wrong person. Seems simple enough to me."

"Ministry's probably secretly glad they don't have to deal with him any more," Octavia agreed. "He's been an awful embarrassment to them over the last few months. Bet you it gets investigated for about two days and then quietly dropped."

"I don't think they'll be able to deal with it quite that quickly." Achilla was reading still. "Says here they've got the Aurors involved. You know what they're like once they've got hold of something – they won't let it drop until they've worked out who's responsible."

"Shouldn't be too hard, anyway," Augustina Hamwell spoke up now. "Not with that great big skull-thing over the body. That's someone _wanting_ people to know they killed him, that is. They might as well just leave a note saying "Hi, it was me" and sign it. Whoever it is isn't really trying to go for subtle."

"They've got to be pretty confident, whoever they are," Achilla said. "Unforgivable Curses – that's _life_ in Azkaban. Not the sort of thing you mess around with unless you know you can get away with it.

Azkaban. Andromeda felt herself go cold at the word. Every child knew of the nightmare island, populated by Dementors who stole away your happiest memories, leaving nothing behind but coldness, bitterness, misery and madness. Dementors could take your very _soul_.

Across the table, Branwyn had gone pale, pushing away what was left of her breakfast. "I don't think we need to talk about that until we know what happened," she said quietly. "We don't really know anything at the minute anyway."

"Oh, come on, Bran, don't be stupid," Octavia started to chide a little. "It's _obvious…_"

"Just shut _up!_" The words were snarled, and Branwyn pushed her chair roughly away from the table. "Shut up, all of you, about it. You don't know _anything!_"

Branwyn was usually a quiet girl, and this rather surprising display of temper quieted the table for a minute or two. Andromeda was the first to speak, standing to try and place a calming hand on the other girl's arm. "Bran…"

But Branwyn jerked her arm away as though Andromeda's hand might burn her. "Leave me alone. You _especially_ leave me alone!" She glared at Andromeda with a startling intensity and then turned on her heel, storming back towards the Slytherin dormitory.

"Well, that's certainly told us," Octavia noted after a moment's stunned silence. "Make note, girls – in future none of us are to discuss _anything_ unless we have the depth of knowledge usually granted to Aurors. Clearly casual conversation fouls the air beyond Branwyn's tolerance or something."

"Maybe I should go after her, see what's wrong," Andromeda stood awkwardly, glancing after the departed girl, unsure just what she had _done_ to stir as much anger as she had seen in Branwyn's eyes.

"Best not to," Achilla advised, glancing up from the paper. "She'll work out whatever it is she's annoyed about soon enough, and come back with her tail between her legs. Better to let her get it out of her system on her own."

"Maybe," Andromeda agreed uncertainly. She looked over again to the photo on the newspaper's front page, and shook her head. "Maybe I'll just skip breakfast and get some homework done. Not really all that hungry anymore."

Between the story and the scene from Branwyn, her appetite seemed to have vanished somehow. More than that, she couldn't seem to get rid of the vague nagging feeling that she'd seen that snake and skull symbol somewhere before.

Perhaps it would be better to get away from her friends, just to where she could think quietly for a bit.

-

Branwyn didn't share many subjects with Andromeda, and it wasn't until lunchtime that Andromeda got the chance to see her again. The girl slunk into the Dining Hall behind the others (_"Embarrassment,"_ Octavia said knowingly. "_Wouldn't you be embarrassed after throwing a fit like that?"_) and took a seat further down the Slytherin table than usual. Andromeda glanced over every few minutes, trying to catch her eye, but every time she did the other girl avoided her gaze, staring down at her plate and picking at her food.

It was odd, but Andromeda had a suspicion what it might mean. As soon as Branwyn stood up to leave the table, Andromeda was up too, following closely behind, determined not to let her get away without speaking to her.

Certainly, Branwyn noticed. She walked faster, moving quickly down the corridor, then turned and glared when her attempts to outpace Andromeda failed.

"What do you want?"

"It's okay," Andromeda said, feeling the need to give that reassurance somehow. It was something in the way the other girl looked – pale-faced and vulnerable still, a little pink around the eyes. It stirred her big sister instincts, got round her the same way Narcissa did when she cried. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Branwyn folded her arms across her chest. "I don't particularly want to talk to you," she said sharply. "You may have noticed."

"Well, yes but – come on, Branwyn," Andromeda tried to coax, softening her voice. "What's got you so angry? Was it something I said?"

"If you don't know already, I'm not going to explain it!" Apparently Andromeda was expected to know already whatever it was she had done wrong. Branwyn stared at her expectantly, gaze fierce.

And Andromeda did know – or thought she did. "Did you know the guy who died? Is that it?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Apparently, from the way Branwyn scowled at her, she was wrong. "Sure it is. In all my free time away from school, I just _love_ to spend my time hanging around some radical politician who won't shut up about Muggle rights. I'm just sure my parents would _love_ that."

It was true, when Andromeda paused to think about it. The Jugson family was scarcely the sort to associate with someone like that – indeed they were more likely to get on with Aunt Walburga than they were Godwin Holthgar.

"What is it then?" she asked, honestly mystified.

"You can't really not know?" That seemed to stun Branwyn. "Oh, come off it, Andromeda, you _have_ to know. Don't be so dense."

"Branwyn, I really have no idea what's upsetting you." Andromeda shook her head helplessly. "And unless you tell me, there's nothing I can do to fix it, is there?"

"This isn't something you can just fix!" Branwyn said sharply. "And you can stop pretending to be so innocent. We were all _at_ that wedding of your sister's. We know what she said."

"Bella's wedding?" Andromeda shook her head, putting aside for a moment the thoughts of the letters she had found in her sister's room. "She was just talking – and she wasn't really talking about anything like this. She just meant political stuff, not _murder._"

It was a moment before Branwyn started to laugh, helpless laughter with an edge that said it could descend into tears at any moment. "Oh, Merlin, you actually _believe_ that, don't you?"

"She's my sister, Branwyn," Andromeda said sharply. "I grew up with her. I think I'd know if she… if she were capable of something like that."

"So, it's been some other Bellatrix that keeps sending letters to our house then?" Branwyn demanded. "Since just after Christmas, my Dad says – well before the wedding even."

"Oh, well," Andromeda's answer was a little more uneasy now. The memory of the letters burnt brightly in her brain. "If it's just _letters_. People say all sorts of things they don't mean in _letters!_"

"Yeah?" Branwyn's voice held no humour now. "Well, I wish someone had told my brother that before your sister convinced him to go join the Deatheaters."

"Deatheaters?" The term sounded familiar, as though it were one Andromeda had overheard in conversation somewhere and yet couldn't quite put a meaning to.

"Merlin, Andromeda, do you live under a _rock?_" Branwyn demanded. "Yes, Deatheaters. The private little army the Dark Lord is so busy drumming up to go kill people he doesn't like. And your Bellatrix is right in the thick of it, talking it up, telling guys like my brother he's going to be a _hero_."

"Oh, I don't think that could be Bella," Andromeda said quickly, her heart denying it even as her stomach dropped. "He's got to have… misunderstood or something. Or maybe it was Rodolphus. It could have been Rodolphus."

Branwyn looked at her, gaze almost pitying now. "Andromeda, I read the letters. Your sister wrote them. I'm sorry."

The words hit Andromeda like a blow, and she had to reach out a hand to steady herself against the wall as nausea swept over her. Bella couldn't – Bella _wouldn't!_

Bella, it seemed, could and would.

Branwyn was still talking, her voice quiet. "And it's not as if I give two figs about Holthgar – Lucius is right, he _was_ asking for it. But if Toclan was involved, and they catch him, they'll send him to Azkaban and he _can't_ go there. He's just a big lunk who got pulled along, and he… the Dementors…" she bit her lip quickly, and shook her head. "I just can't bear to _think_ of that!"

"You're _sure_ of this?" Andromeda asked weakly, still not quite wanting to believe. "It couldn't just be that Rodolphus wrote the letters and Bella signed them or something?" Though that didn't sound like something Bellatrix would allow either. She was hardly the type to allow herself to be bullied.

Branwyn hesitated, looking as though she regretted her words a little. "I'm sure," she admitted, after a moment. "I'm sorry, Andromeda – but surely, you have to have noticed _something_!"

Noticed? Certainly she had – the letters, the rush to get the wedding over quickly for some mysterious reason Bellatrix refused to talk about. She'd noticed – but she hadn't believed it was that.

She hadn't _wanted_ to believe it was that.

"I need to – I'm just going to.." she mumbled the words, and Branwyn didn't try to stop her as she stumbled away, heading blindly for the girl's bathroom where the lunch she had just eaten made a reappearance.

Not even the ghosts were in there to disturb her today, and she sat down on the floor, still leaning over the toilet as she tried to think, tried to calm her thoughts.

What did you do if you found out your sister might be a murderer?

What _could_ you do?

It was a while before she managed to coax shaky legs into standing up, and she made her way back to the Slytherin dormitories. Dinner would be over by now of course, and she was vaguely aware that there would be explanations needed later for why she had not attended her lessons, but that didn't seem so important just now. Other things were more important.

Digging out the letter she had kept so safely stashed away, for instance. That was ranking fairly highly just now.

Perhaps it would have been easier to use a spell to get it out – _Accio_ might have done just nicely – but then what damage could hands trembling too much to even sort through folded clothes neatly have done while wielding a wand? It was better not to risk it, and so Andromeda scrabbled through her belongings, making as much of a mess as Sirius ever had as she tried to locate it.

She reread it slowly, word by word, as though doing so might change its meaning. Perhaps she had misunderstood before, perhaps she had exaggerated in her own mind, encouraged by Sirius' mischievous presence. Perhaps she had been _wrong_.

She hadn't.

The letter read just the same as it had before, the mentions of _"removing corruptive influences"_ seeming darker and more frightening with the day's events to put them into context. Andromeda was shivering before she had finished reading it, her imagination dancing suddenly with pictures of shadowy killers and their sweet Bellatrix among them.

And there at the end, by Rodolphus' signature was a quick sketch in ink. It had smudged, but even blurry and indistinct Andromeda could make it out. Her heart sank as she looked at the picture – a drawing she had overlooked the first time but could now see clearly was the shape of a skull with a snake for its tongue.

She had to do something. Paper and a quill were easy to locate, but once she had them in front of her she found herself hesitating. Certainly, she could have poured her heart into the letter, poured out all the questions and confusions, but then what? Owls weren't so secure. What if someone tempted Kettle out of the sky – food, fake owl-calls, people had done such things before – and read the note? Could her note be used as evidence to send her own sister to Azkaban?

In the end she scribbled only a line, daring not to put in any details.

_I need to talk to you. Can you firetalk? It's urgent. A._

She called Kettle, and the owl came, sitting obligingly still as the message was strapped to his leg. She sent him off with a pat and a gentle word and watched out the window until he had vanished out of sight.

Then she left the dormitory, unsure where she was going but knowing she didn't still want to be there once the others came back. She would try to think up an excuse later for why she had skipped her lesson, but for now she needed to clear her head.

-

She couldn't have said why she let her feet take her to the Arithmancy classrooms. It was a bad idea – it was a _silly_ idea. There wasn't even any guarantee Ted would be having a lesson there right now, and if he was what would she say to him? There was no plan behind it, no idea of what she wanted exactly, and a Slytherin should _always_ know what it was she wanted.

But Andromeda didn't know where else to go. Not to Narcissa – how could she explain to the younger girl that their sister might be a murderer? And not to her friends, because half of her was afraid that if they were to find out they might do something – tell a teacher, report it to the Aurors.

The other half of her was afraid they might just approve of it.

Ted was someone else, someone solid, someone calming, and she _needed_ calming right now. The classes weren't finished when she arrived, but she perched on a spare desk outside the classroom doors and waited, hoping desperately Ted was inside one of the rooms.

When classes ended, the doors were flung open and students came spilling out – Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor, all of them jumbled together and chattering as they came out. Some of them stopped in surprise to stare at Andromeda. She had expected that – it wasn't as though she took Arithmancy after all, and there were students who would always take note of something not quite where it should be.

What she _hadn't_ expected was the outright hostility in some of their faces.

It started as a crowd pushing to get towards the doors. A few heads turned, and then a few more, and then the crowd shifted until a circle had formed around Andromeda. She stood slowly, glancing about, meeting unfriendly eyes rather than ducking her head.

"Unusual to see you down in the Arithmancy department, Miss Black." It didn't take long for someone to speak up – a tall gangly boy with a Ravenclaw tie. "I do hope that you aren't feeling too tainted in the presence of us all. I'm afraid most of us can't claim to be quite so pure of blood."

Andromeda wouldn't have been a Black if she couldn't summon up a haughty look, even under such pressure, fixing the boy with a steady glare. Think of something – what would Bellatrix do? Okay, what would Bellatrix do if she _didn't_ want to put the unlucky boy in the Hospital wing for a week or two?

"The blood I can tolerate," she said, tone dropping towards icy. "The fact you don't appear to have bathed for a week is a little more of a concern."

That got a laugh from the Slytherins in the crowd at least, but others were looking less happy.

"Yeah, I bet you can tolerate the blood – your lot certainly have no problem spilling it, do you?"

"Run out of Muggles in your own classes now, Black – have to come looking for some in ours, do you?"

A teacher would come out in a minute. A teacher _had_ to come out in a minute, Andromeda promised herself silently. This was Hogwarts, this was school, this was a _civilized_ school. Mobs didn't just form in corridors without someone coming to discover them and hand out detentions all round. Bad things couldn't _happen_ here.

Her hand twitched towards her wand before she could really think about it. Unfortunately, it was a movement caught by the students closest to her.

"Watch it – watch out, folks. She's going for her wand!" one declared, his tone mocking.

"Going to show us what sort of dark magic you know, are you, Black? Going to curse us?" Another boy – this one in Hufflepuff uniform. He stepped forward, out of the crowd, wand already out. "You know, they send you to Azkaban for the sort of magic I've heard your lot use. But we all know you're going there anyway, so why not get it over with now, in front of witnesses? Save yourself a bit of time."

_Bellatrix would,_ a little voice noted in Andromeda's head. _Bellatrix would, and leave him curled in a little whimpering heap for even __**thinking**__ of speaking to her like that, and just walk away without looking back…_

Bellatrix would, and Andromeda _could_ if she chose to. Certainly, she knew the words – it hadn't been knowledge ever much hidden in the Black household.

Slowly, she reached down and tugged her wand free, holding her challenger's eyes. He was bluffing – he had to be bluffing – he would back down any minute now, he…

"All right – move over folks, let me through. Ian, put that wand away before you hurt yourself with it…"

The crowd gave a sigh that was almost a groan, and Andromeda's heart leapt in relief at the sight of the tall blonde figure pushing his way through the crowd towards her.

The boy facing her looked unhappy. "She's one of _them_, Ted," he protested, wand still in his hand. "You know everyone says they're up to their necks in it. What's she doing _here_, that's what I'd like to know. Not like she takes Arithmancy."

"Unless Dumbledore has started allowing leave from school to go murder people, I sincerely doubt Andromeda's up to her neck in _anything_," Ted said calmly. The crowd had moved aside now, and he walked through them until he was standing beside Andromeda. "She's been here, just as you've been here, and if one of the teachers gets up here and catches you waving your wand about like that you're in for detentions for the rest of the year. Put it away."

"Everyone knows what her sister said at that wedding!" The shout came from somebody near the back, and it brought an unhappy murmur from those gathered.

Andromeda went cold. Somehow, unnerved as she'd been by the wedding speech, she hadn't really thought of it as something that might affect her _here_. What was said at the wedding was said only to the wedding guests – pure-bloods, and carefully picked ones at that unless Bellatrix had had a complete loss of judgement. People who wouldn't object or argue – at least not loudly.

But it only took one person to tell another, and that one to tell yet another, and somehow it spread until it was _here_ with a crowd of unhappy students she hadn't been at all prepared to face.

Ted, on the other hand, did seem prepared. He glanced at Andromeda, his gaze seeming almost apologetic before he slipped an arm around her waist. It was a statement that allied him firmly with her – whether Andromeda had wished it or not.

"But she is not her sister," he pointed out, not raising his voice beyond its usual steady tone, "she's just one of us. Just a student, like everyone else here. If we're going to start fighting over silly things our _families_ have said we're going to be here all night. Unless anyone here has heard Andromeda herself say anything, I don't think you're going to get anywhere with that argument.

Andromeda stood stiffly, conscious of Ted's hand brushing lightly against her hip, and she held onto her wand tightly. She could have shifted closer to him, she could have stepped away. Either action would have sent its own message, its own signal to those watching about how to react to her, and yet she seemed frozen to the spot.

Her challenger – Ian – still seemed unhappy with the situation. "She got her wand out first, Ted," he insisted, glaring at Andromeda.

"And she's going to be the first to put it away, aren't you, Andromeda?" There was a note in Ted's voice that made that suggestion sound close to an order

She glanced at Ian, and then at Ted, reluctant to do as he said. Certainly, he meant well but if this went wrong there were an awful lot of angry people and in general, being able to defend herself felt _better._

"_Now_, Andromeda," Ted prompted. "Before a teacher _does_ turn up and we all have to explain just what we're doing here." Seeing her hesitate, he met her eyes for a moment and added more softly, "please?"

She felt him breathe out in quiet relief as she finally moved to do as she was told, tucking the wand out of sight.

"Now you, Ian," he suggested, turning back to the other boy. "Come on, man. You wouldn't use it anyway, would you? Not on an unarmed girl. You're not the sort."

"I've heard stories the Blacks can do wandless magic," Ian muttered, still edgy despite Andromeda's actions.

"Yeah, and I've heard rumours they can shoot fire out of their eyes. Come _on_," Ted said, his voice becoming a little impatient. "Either you believe she's horrifically powerful, or you don't – and if you really _did_ I doubt any of you would have been so quick to pick a fight with her. Put it away, and get out of here. You don't get any prizes for "person who managed to posture longest and most threateningly with a wand"."

Reluctantly, Ian lowered his wand. "She still shouldn't have been in the Arithmancy area," he complained.

"If it helps, I very much doubt she'll be hurrying back after the fine reception you've given her," Ted said dryly. "And you don't need to worry about her being here _now_, because we are going."

His arm tightened just the slightest amount around Andromeda's waist, and she decided that perhaps now would be a really good idea to do as he suggested and just get _out_ of there. She turned meekly, letting him lead her away.

She didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved that his arm dropped from her waist the moment they were out of sight of the others.

"Are you all right?" His voice was gentle, and he looked at Andromeda as though afraid she might burst into tears at any moment.

"Fine." Ironically that same gentleness prickled her pride, made Andromeda fight back the urge to cry and shake and be upset. She was a Black girl! She wasn't going to get upset just because of a bunch of over-aggressive idiots. "I could have fought him, you know," she added defensively, "if I had to."

"Right," Ted looked at her a little oddly but shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "But you didn't have to."

"I know. I'm just saying… I _could_ have cursed him. If he hadn't stopped, I could have. I had my wand ready!"

"I know. I saw that," Ted agreed calmly, letting her work through to wherever this was going.

"I wasn't scared of them. I just… didn't want to fight them right then."

"Which, as it happens, was precisely the right choice," Ted said mildly. "Well done."

"Right. I'm just saying, I can look after myself."

Ted looked at her for a moment, eyebrows raised a little, then sighed. "You don't believe me, do you? That you did the right thing?"

Andromeda flushed. "I just don't want you to think I'm helpless or anything." Bellatrix would have fought them, and won, and left them regretting it, that much she knew. Merlin, even _Narcissa_ would have left a few of them feeling sorry for themselves. Neither of them would just have frozen like that.

"Look, you want to know what would have happened if you fought?" Ted asked, turning to face her fully. "If you fought Ian, then yeah, you probably would have won. You don't have to convince me. I've heard the stories of your family just as much as everyone else. Just because I happen to like you doesn't mean I'm deaf or entirely stupid."

Andromeda swallowed, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach that last sentence stirred. "So you didn't have to defend me," she said.

"Except that then, _after_ you'd won, they'd say they'd been proven right," Ted contradicted her. "They'd have every reason then to say. "Look, there's that Black girl – look what curses she knew! She must have been evil after all to know all that". This way, you don't justify them. This way, you don't justify them. You leave them helpless because if they attack _you_, especially if you don't even have your wand out, they're turning you into the victim which they don't want to do."

"You know, with thinking like that, you could almost make it into Slytherin," Andromeda commented. She let herself relax a little, not quite so sharply defensive. It wasn't someone who thought she was some helpless little girl who needed defended, just someone who wanted to help. Her pride could cope with that.

"I'm not quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or not!" But Ted grinned at her, his expression turning merry for a moment before he sobered up again. "You probably shouldn't go near the Arithmancy classrooms again for a bit, at least not until all this fuss has calmed down."

"I've got just as much right to go there as anyone else in this school!" And there was her pride again, flashing up just when she thought she had it under control.

"Of course you do," Ted agreed carefully. "I'm not saying that you don't. It's just… Arithmancy has quite a lot of students with one or two Muggle parents. It's one of those things where the magic we learn taps into the normal Muggle stuff before we come here, yeah? And parents like it because they think it sounds like a proper subject. So there's a lot of people with Muggle parents, a lot of _scared_ people with the headlines today, and you put them together and you tend to get mobs. Safer to avoid those."

"You're not scared though," Andromeda noted, glancing at him.

Ted shook his head. "Worried, yeah, but scared? No. Politics is a long way away from school, and one death doesn't make up a killing spree all on its own however the Quibbler would like to phrase it. It's the same at home – newspapers always like to make things seem bigger than they are…"

He stopped speaking suddenly, and Andromeda could feel him studying her expression, taking in for the first time the sore eyes from her earlier crying fit, her paleness.

"Unless," he suggested very carefully, keeping his voice steady and even, "you've any reason to think differently?"

She could tell him. It would be the perfect opportunity now, when he'd asked her. She could tell him everything – the letters which she wasn't even supposed to have read, the wedding, what Branwyn had said. She could tell him and then he could say calm, soothing and comforting things and she would feel _better._

And then, a treacherous little voice in her head warned, he would go straight to Dumbledore or one of the other teachers. He would have to, wouldn't he, if it was murder? And the teachers would tell the Aurors, and the Aurors would come asking questions, and the family would be so _ashamed_, and Bellatrix… Bellatrix would go to Azkaban.

Her mouth felt dry suddenly. Ted was looking at her, his blue eyes concerned as he reached to touch her shoulder.

"Andromeda? Are you all right? _Do_ you know anything about what happened to that guy in the paper?"

Andromeda swallowed, and shook her head. "No," she made herself lie firmly. "Nothing at all."

After all, she thought guiltily, Holthgar _had_ really been sort of asking for it.

"Oh," Ted seemed a little disappointed by that answer somehow, but he accepted it, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "Fair enough then."

Andromeda looked away, unable to quite meet his eyes. "It wouldn't hurt to be careful though," she added quietly.

He paused for a minute, mentally processing that. "Careful in a general "it doesn't hurt people to be careful" way, or careful in a "specifically, I, Ted Tonks, should be careful" way?"

"Uh," Andromeda bit her lip, thoughts straying back to letters with threatening notes that she might have to be "dealt with" if she showed signs of not behaving properly. And here she was, talking to Ted again, having just been rescued by him in front of… Merlin, _how_ many people? "Both?"

"Ah, I see." Andromeda wasn't sure whether it was her imagination that made her think his tone had turned a little chilly suddenly. "I don't suppose you can tell me what it is I should be careful of, should you?"

Of me, Andromeda's brain responded silently. You should be careful of _me_, Ted, because I have a sister who's watching me and keeps receiving scary letters, and she'd be angry with me if she knew we were having this conversation, but I don't dare think of what she'd do to _you_.

But she had come looking for _him_ not the other way around, and that was hardly something she could explain to him. She shook her head instead silently, lips tightly pressed together as though the words might try to escape of their own accord.

"Or how you know? Or…" Ted stopped, sighing as she shook her head again. "Of course not. Forget it. Silly of me to have asked."

"I'm sorry." It was inadequate, she knew, in a situation like this but they were the only words she had. Tears that hadn't materialised after the Arithmancy scene were threatening now, and Andromeda stared hard at the ground.

"No, really. I mean, it's only my safety you're not telling me about after all. It's not like someone died yesterday… oh wait."

Andromeda flinched at the sarcasm, and after a moment of staring at her Ted sighed and seemed to relent a little, reaching to pat her shoulder roughly. "I'd better get off in any case," he said, not bothering to even provide an excuse for walking away from the conversation. "I'll see you around… or something like that. Take care of yourself, Andromeda. Remember, stay away from the Arithmancy classrooms, and if someone tries to start something, keep your wand away."

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor until he'd turned away and started walking. Only then did she move, heading back towards the dormitories. She would already be in trouble for missing lessons after all. It wasn't as though she could be in _more_ trouble if she missed another and went to hide in there a little longer.

-

"Andromeda!" Narcissa didn't bother to knock, her voice shrill as she burst into the dormitory.

Andromeda tried not to groan. It wasn't that she hadn't been expecting it – if anyone was aware of school gossip it was Narcissa, and she'd never been shy about giving her own opinion. After today though, a lecture from her younger sister was the last thing she wanted to face. "I'm doing homework," she lied quickly, reaching to grab the nearest book.

"No, you're not," Narcissa informed her calmly. "You go to the library for that. And even if you _were_ you could make time for this." She perched on the end of the bed, ignoring Andromeda's frown. "What's going on?"

Even that simple question was enough to make Andromeda flush guiltily. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come off it, Dromeda, I don't live under a _rock,_" Narcissa said, her tone taking a slight scolding tone. "Everyone's saying you skipped out on today's lessons – which is _not_ like you – and half the Hufflepuffs are bragging that that Tonks boy told you to put your wand away, and you did." She propped her chin on her hand, studying her older sister closely. "I was going to ask you if you'd lost your mind, but I didn't expect you to look so awful. You don't look _happy_ enough to be having a secret love affair or anything like that."

"I'm not having a secret love affair. Merlin, is that what people are saying?" Andromeda sat up quickly, setting her book to one side.

"After you messed around with him before, what do you expect people to think when you don't turn up for lessons and half the school apparently sees you with him?" Narcissa asked impatiently. "Andromeda, come on. I'm not mad, and I swear I won't tell Aunt Walburga this time. I just want to know what's going on."

"Nothing's going on!" Andromeda denied it fiercely. "I got caught in… a situation, and Ted helped me out. That's all."

"A situation that made you look like that, and miss lessons? And that you needed help with?" Narcissa frowned, looking hard at Andromeda. "That's nothing good. You don't usually miss lessons unless your leg's about to fall off or something."

"It was just a few people getting upset about something." Andromeda shook her head, trying to downplay the incident's seriousness. "Nothing big."

"Andromeda," Narcissa's voice softened, and she shifted closer to her sister. "Come on. I know you and Bella think I'm oblivious to stuff most of the time, but I'm not really. Who upset you? Did someone hurt you?"

"No-one hurt me." Andromeda shook his head. "They just… they were a bit angry, was all." She looked at Narcissa, hesitating for a moment. "Cissy, do you know anything about what Bella's been doing with Rodolphus?"

She didn't expect her younger sister to giggle, and colour a little at the question. "Well, I assume they're doing… you know, what boys and girls _do_. They're _married_ now."

"I wasn't talking about that!" Andromeda swatted her lightly. "I was talking about… you know, politics and stuff."

"Oh. Boring stuff." Narcissa grimaced, looking rather less interested in this subject. "I don't know – they were all set on fixing the world at the wedding, weren't they? They're probably getting on with that."

Andromeda hesitated, trying to phrase it in a way that wouldn't alarm her sister. "Have you heard anything about… about them forming an army? Anything like that?" she asked, careful to keep her voice down. Certainly the dormitory was empty, but it was a Slytherin dormitory after all. Most people weren't above planting an eavesdropping charm here and there if they thought it might benefit them.

"Oh, probably," Narcissa agreed vaguely, picking at a loose thread on Andromeda's sheet. "Lucius said she's been writing to him and his father."

Again, Andromeda felt that sickening coldness in her stomach. Too many letters, too many pieces that fit together into a picture she really didn't want to see at all. "Writing to _Lucius_?" she asked. "Whatever about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Narcissa shrugged. "I was jealous at first, but then he said it wasn't those sort of letters and I stopped listening at some point after that. Something about politics and the Dark Lord. He's into all that stuff, and you know what Bella's like."

She had thought she _did_ know what Bella was like, but today Andromeda was rapidly growing less sure of that. "Cissy, listen, this is important. Can you ask Lucius to tell you what she's been writing about?"

"I guess so. It's dreadfully boring though," Narcissa agreed, and looked at Andromeda curiously. "Surely _this_ can't be what's been getting you so upset?"

Andromeda bit her lip, unsure exactly how much she should confide in her younger sister. "I think maybe Bella might be involved in something that might get her into trouble," she said carefully. "This political stuff she and Lucius and the others are playing with – I think it's _dangerous, _Cissy. And I'm worried about her."

Narcissa eyed her, studying her. "What does all of this have to do with that Hufflepuff boy?" she asked after a moment.

"Nothing!" Andromeda denied it hastily. "But some other folk have heard about the stuff Bella's involved in too. I got into some trouble and he helped me get out of it. That's all."

"What sort of trouble?"

"An argument." Andromeda tried to downplay it, not wanting to scare Narcissa too much. "They were angry about it, which was all."

Narcissa continued to look at her hard. "An argument isn't something you'd normally have your wand out for," she said slowly. "That's Bella, not you. It's _hard_ to make you lose your temper."

It was sometimes too easy to dismiss Narcissa as stupid, and remember that there was a sharp Black brain hiding under the vanity when she chose to use it. Andromeda shifted a little, uncomfortably. "Yes, well…"

"And if you _had_ lost your temper, you wouldn't even put your wand away if _I_ told you to, let alone some Hufflepuff," Narcissa went on, following that thought. "which means something happened that made you think you _needed_ it out."

"Maybe a little more than an argument," Andromeda said reluctantly. "The point is, he helped me."

Narcissa was sitting up straight now, eying Andromeda with some concern. "You should tell Father," she said, "or a teacher."

"You don't even know what happened!"

"I know that it was bad if you had your wand out!" Narcissa retorted sharply. "Why didn't you just _tell_ me someone tried to hurt you, rather than going on for ages about some stupid political stuff? You tell Father, he'll make sure they're removed, and it won't happen again. Whoever it was, they had no _right_…"

Cygnus Black certainly did have the power to make life uncomfortable for anyone who bothered his daughters at school, even if he couldn't actually have them thrown out entirely. Still, Andromeda shook his head. "Father's busy enough without having more stuff to worry about right now," she said, remembering how tired her father had seemed when he _did_ venture out of his study over Easter. "Besides, it's over now. It's just this politics…"

"If the people Bella's upsetting are people who would attack you over it, she's probably doing exactly the right thing," Narcissa said decisively. "They can't be _good_ people if they would do that."

"I don't think it's as simple as that." It would have been an easy answer to accept, but Andromeda had to shake her head reluctantly, remembering the letter she had stashed away. "Just ask Lucius, see what he says, will you?"

"I will." Narcissa looked at her sister doubtfully though, still studying her. "But Andromeda? Are you sure you're not just worried about the politics because this Hufflepuff Mudblood guy's been messing up your head?"

"I'm sure," Andromeda said firmly. "This is just something I have to work out. Nothing to do with Ted."

"If you say so," Narcissa seemed anxious despite her reassurance. "Just be careful, Andromeda. If you start playing about with him again…"

"I'm not playing about!" Andromeda insisted. "I needed help, he gave it. That's _all!_"

"And yet when he told you to put your wand away, you did," Narcissa noted. "And everyone saw it. That's not a small thing."

"I was panicking a bit at the time. I wasn't thinking." Wasn't thinking enough, at least, to consider the implications of that action. Yet if she had, would she have done anything different?

"So it would seem." Narcissa sighed, and stood up, smoothing down her skirt. "Well, I'll see what I can find out. I'm sure it's nothing though." She reached to pat Andromeda's shoulder awkwardly. "You be careful though. If anyone bothers you again, you _must_ tell Father. Or tell me. _I'll _deal with them for you."

Touched, Andromeda managed a smile. The idea of her younger sister fiercely taking on anyone who upset her was both amusing and entirely realistic. "I'll do that," she promised, getting to her feet. "And now I probably have to go apologise to some teachers."

-

It could be an advantage at times to be known as someone who usually behaved yourself in class, and one of those times was when you had not bothered to turn up for classes. Andromeda's apology for not turning up was accepted, as was her excuse that she'd had a headache and gone to lie down until breakfast was over, and accidentally gone back to sleep.

She had thought that excuse might be questioned, especially as most of the student body of Hogwarts seemed to know about the confrontation outside the Arithmency rooms. Luckily for her however, the afternoon's lessons had been due to be History of Magic ones. Professor Binns was only vaguely in touch with the events of the last decade, and noticing things that had only happened a day or so ago was far beyond him.

Missing the morning's Defence Against The Dark Arts lessons was not viewed quite still lightly, but Andromeda still managed to escape with a lecture on the importance of reliability, an essay on the same subject, and a promise that house-points would be lost should it happen again. Dark wizards, Professor Fiori told her sternly, would not hang about to see if she had a headache before they decided whether to commence with their plans of great destruction. Andromeda agreed meekly, took the essay, and escaped, grateful to have got off so lightly.

There were plenty of students curious about just where she _had_ been when she vanished from lessons, and Andromeda had to deal with more questions about just what she'd been doing with Ted than she knew what to do with. She tried to stay polite, repeating again and again that no, she wasn't seeing Ted Tonks and he had just been helping her out.

When that became too much, and her patience came close to snapping, Narcissa decided that was the point where she should step in. She had never much bothered with even attempting to be polite with those who annoyed her, and she threw a fine tantrum at the Slytherin tables, stating that of _course_, her sister would never let herself be sullied by some stupid Mudblood, and she'd curse anyone who said otherwise. She added a warning that anyone who wasn't convinced by _that_ could try asking her father or aunt and see what they thought of the matter, and the questions stopped abruptly. The Black family's reputation was well-known and no-one was foolish enough to take up the question of family honour with Walburga Black.

The wording was enough to make Andromeda cringe a little, and she _did_ hope word didn't get back to Ted about what exactly had been said. Still, Narcissa had effectively managed to make people stop bothering her – even if Hufflepuff and Slytherin students alike kept staring whenever she walked past – and that was enough to stop her mentioning it to her sister at all. It would have seemed ungracious to complain.

It was almost a week before she heard back from Bella. Almost a week growing more and more anxious as she wondered what her sister was up to. Finally, at breakfast, an owl dropped a letter into her hand before fluttering quickly away.

The letter – more of a note really – was short and a little irate in tone.

"_Andromeda_

_It's very hard to firetalk you if you never light a fire. Speak to you tonight if it's still urgent. Don't forget!_

_Bella"_

It was a simple oversight, but a silly enough one that Andromeda nearly laughed out loud as she folded the note. The weather of early May had been warm enough that they simply hadn't bothered to light any of the school fires over the last few weeks. She hadn't stopped to think just _how_ she expected her older sister to get in touch with her with none of them lit.

Getting privacy to light one meant missing dinner. Andromeda slipped away before anyone could ask where she was going, back to the Slytherin common room, hastily building a small fire. She just hoped Bellatrix would try and firetalk at the right time – too early or too late and they could easily miss each other.

The fire sputtered and spat sparks before shaping itself, forming within a few minutes into the shape of Bellatrix's face.

"Finally!" she said, tone exasperated. "Really, Andromeda, you can be a bit of an idiot at times. What did you think I would do – floo in to have a heart to heart talk with you? I've been trying all week to get through!"

"Sorry," Andromeda apologised, feeling sheepish. "It's been getting warm, and you know how scorching it gets in summer with the fire lit. I just didn't think about it."

"So I gathered," Bellatrix said dryly. "Well, what is it that has you so upset that a letter won't do? Is Lucius Malfoy upsetting Cissy again? Or has that Mudblood you were encouraging before Christmas before Christmas become a problem? I told you he would, you know."

"Neither," Andromeda sat down on the floor, finding it easier to look into the fire that way. "Bella, some of the girls here at school have been talking about things they think you're up to."

"You sent me a note saying to contact you urgently because you wanted to talk about _gossip_? Merlin, you're getting as bad as Cissy," Bellatrix complained. "Fine, what is it?"

"There's been a couple of people saying you've been sending letters to their families. And some people think you had something to do with that politician guy dying." It sounded ridiculous to Andromeda, even as she said it. She _wanted_ it to be ridiculous, for Bellatrix to stare, and laugh at the very idea.

Bellatrix did laugh, but it wasn't the disbelieving sound Andromeda had wanted. The sharp scornful noise made her stomach ache again. "Causing a bit of an uproar, is it?"

"Yes." Andromeda remembered again the crowd that had accosted her outside the Arithmency classrooms. It wasn't something she could manage to see any humour in somehow. "Bella, what's going on? _Are_ you involved in all this?"

"Just what I told everyone at the wedding. We're restoring the natural order of the world. I wondered when people would start to talk about it," Bellatrix said placidly.

"That man _died_, Bella! It made the front page of the paper – people were hardly going to fail to notice!" Andromeda felt her voice start to shake a little. Even with all the evidence in front of her, she had still hoped that this could somehow be some horrendous mistake or misunderstanding.

"You're not going to be a baby about this, are you?" In the flames Bellatrix frowned. "Come on, Andromeda, I thought you were old enough to handle this kind of thing by now."

"Did you really kill someone?" Andromeda asked miserably, feeling her eyes sting with more than the strain of looking directly into the fire for so long.

Bellatrix was silent for a long moment. "Yes," she admitted finally. "but he deserved it. We had to, Andromeda! You never pay enough attention to politics to understand, but believe me; someone like Holthgar can cause damage just by being allowed to speak in public. He had to be dealt with."

Dealt with. Andromeda was coming to loathe that phrasing, the way it was used to refer to a life casually discarded. "And will other people need to be… dealt with?"

"Yes. Probably," Bellatrix said honestly. "Andromeda, try to be an adult about this, will you? It's not all about black and white. Sometimes certain people are standing in the way of the greater good, and you have to get them out of the way in order to progress.

"By _killing_ them?" Andromeda's voice rose without her intending it to, and she slapped her hand over her mouth, glancing behind herself to check the Common Room was still empty.

"If necessary." Bellatrix gave the answer crisply. "The Dark Lord says…"

"Never mind him!" Andromeda lowered her voice down to a hiss. "Bella, if you get caught, you _know_ what they'll do to you."

"We're not going to get caught," Bellatrix shrugged the idea away. "Oh sure, there's rumours, but do you really think anyone's going to be able to go after _our_ family without solid proof?"

Something in the phrasing of that set ice trickling down Andromeda's spine. "Our family?" she asked slowly. "Who else is involved in this?"

Bellatrix laughed, but didn't answer the question. "We'll talk about it when you get home."

"No – _Bella!_" Andromeda protested, afraid her sister could vanish from the flames before she could ask anything more. "How come I didn't _know_ about any of this?"

"Because you show as much interest when I talk about it as you do when the kids talk about Quidditch – which is to say none at all?"

"That's not true! I'm sure I would have listened if you'd mentioned _killing_ people or anything," Andromeda insisted. She bit her lips, half-afraid to ask her next question. "Don't you trust me?"

Bellatrix groaned. "Oh Merlin, you _are_ going to act like a left-out five-year-old about this, aren't you? It wasn't about that – don't be an idiot, Andromeda. Yes, I was worried you might freak out a little – as you just have – but mostly it was the fact that if I told you, I would also have to tell Cissy. And frankly, our dear little sister would last under questioning for as long as it took for someone to threaten her with a curse to make her gain weight or have an outbreak of acne. It's best she doesn't know anything she can give away."

"She's not that bad!" Andromeda protested, but relaxed a little nevertheless. Perhaps her sister _hadn't_ taken her and Ted as the warning sign suggested in the letters.

"She's very close sometimes," Bellatrix said dryly. "Don't tell her all of this, okay? She's a little young to handle it."

Andromeda thought guiltily of the conversation she had already had with Narcissa, but nodded. "Okay. But Bella – I still don't like any of this."

"All will become clear. Just _trust _me," Bellatrix said, and grinned, an easy smile that seemed entirely at odds with the subject they had been discussing.

"I'll… I'll try," Andromeda promised uncomfortably, trying to swallow her misgivings. This wasn't some stranger who had suddenly started murdering people after all. This was her _sister_. Certainly, Bella had always had a _temper_ but if she was doing something like this, surely there had to be good reason. "You will explain though? Over summer?"

"Of course I will, if you really want to know," Bellatrix promised easily. "Don't _worry_ so much."

"Okay. I'll see you in summer," Andromeda said, and hesitated. "Love you." It felt as though the statement should be said, as though if she did it could somehow keep things okay. If she loved Bella hard enough, she _couldn't_ be truly bad, could she?

"Love you." But Bellatrix said it more quickly, impatiently, as though in a hurry to get away. The fire crackled and leapt up and when the flames settled again the face was gone.

Andromeda sighed, and put out the fire before any of her fellow Slytherins came to ask why it was so warm in there. What else was there to be done?

-

After that, Andromeda tried to focus on school-work, and forget about what she knew. Perhaps if she waited, and got an explanation out of Bellatrix over the summer holidays, it really _would_ all work out. Better to try and put it to the back of her mind, and concentrate on getting to class on time. Summer would be there before she knew it, and then all this could be straightened out.

For a while, she continued to read the daily papers anxiously, dreading the day they announced the Aurors had suspects for Holthgar's murder. They seemed, however, to be getting nowhere. Three weeks after the man's death there was another murder – this time a woman Andromeda didn't recognise, but who the papers said had performed sterling work in encouraging employers to consider Muggle-born wizards rather than discriminating and going straight for those from the better families. Again, there was the snake sign glowing over her body, and again, Andromeda was conscious of what felt like the entire school looking at her.

She stopped reading the papers after that. Perhaps it was easier not to know.

She managed to avoid Ted too. All things considered, it seemed safer for him – safer for her too – if she did. Better to just avoid him, to hope that Narcissa managed to keep quiet this time, and her family need never know.

It wasn't as though there wasn't plenty to keep her busy. Narcissa seemed to have a different minor trauma every day – one day there would be tears over how she would never pass Potions, the next she would be sulking because Lucius had been cold to her. Andromeda soothed, comforted, fantasised about cursing Lucius bald and wondered to herself whether Narcissa wasn't meant to have friends in her own year to get her through this stuff. She suspected that they might just have the wisdom to vanish when her sister went into one of her tempers, reappearing only when the storm had passed.

The weeks flew by. Avoiding news, forcing herself not to think about what she knew about her older sister, Andromeda started to feel almost normal again. Summer was on the horizon, and she looked forward to it, ready for her free time. A slight dread prickled every now and then at the thought of the talk she had to have with Bellatrix, but even that could be put to the far corner of her mind.

There were only two days left to go of the term the morning Ted got up calmly from the Hufflepuff table at breakfast, walked over to the Slytherin table, and stood by her chair.

The first Andromeda knew of it was when she caught sight of Narcissa scowling warningly in her direction. She blinked back at her younger sister, confused as to what she might have done to earn such a grimace, and then turned as she noticed the presence behind her.

"Hi," Ted smiled down at her. "I was wondering if I might have a private word, Miss Black?"

"Uh..." Andromeda stared at him, conscious of a mouth-full of half-chewed toast. Not wanting to speak with her mouth full, or spit the toast out she swallowed hastily. Across the table she saw Narcissa lean across to murmur something to Lucius.

Ted waited patiently until she had emptied her mouth, ignoring the giggles and whispers around the table. Already, Andromeda could feel herself blushing, conscious of the attention on her. If Aunt Walburga or Bellatrix found out about this…

It was that thought that made her straighten her back, meeting Ted's friendly gaze with a cool stare. "I'm afraid we are a little busy at the minute," she answered him, intentionally keeping her voice cold for the sake of those watching. "It _is_ breakfast time, after all."

The cheerful look faded a little, but Ted didn't move away. "Perhaps later then?"

"The lady said she wasn't interested." Prompted by Narcissa's frantic urgings, Lucius had apparently decided to take a hand in things, getting to his feet.

"The lady is, I believe, perfectly able to answer on her own." Ted retorted sharply.

"The lady _did_ and is now being harassed, despite that answer." Lucius took a step forward, hand rest on his wand warningly. Comments such as those Ted had made at Christmas weren't lightly forgotten, and he looked quite hopeful that he might just be handed the excuse for the fight he had been waiting for.

Catching the look, Andromeda stood up hastily, abruptly changing her mind. If she didn't act, there was _every_ chance the pair of them might just decide to duel right there in front of the Slytherin table, and never mind the teachers present. Merlin only knew how much trouble that could cause.

"Be quiet, Lucius," she ordered firmly. "I've never needed anyone to speak for me before, and I don't need anyone now." She looked up at Ted, making herself meet his eyes. A Black girl staring at the floor rather than look a Muggle-born in the eye would _not_ do.

He looked back at her calmly, not quite so merry now but still waiting patiently. "Well?"

Andromeda took a deep breath. "Five minutes then," she allowed him reluctantly. "I can't spare more than that."

"Glad you could find time to fit me into your busy schedule," Ted said mildly. He offered her his arm, unable to resist glancing back at Lucius. "Good to see you again, Malfoy. Hope your parents are doing well," he offered with a sweetness that made Lucius grimace.

Declining his arm seemed as though it might start another sniping contest between the two of them, so Andromeda rested her hand on it lightly, trying to hurry as they made their way out of the dining room. Better to get this over quickly, so it could be forgotten just as soon as possible.

"If I'm not back within five minutes, my sister will be sending out search parties to check I'm not being ravished," she warned as they paused in a hall way.

"Ravished?" Ted raised his eyebrows. "I take it in pure-blood families you have to reserve _six_ minutes in your schedules for that then? I'll bear it in mind."

Despite herself, Andromeda felt her lips turn into a smile. "Look, seriously, if I don't get back the gossip will be going insane. Is there a _reason_ you felt the urge to approach me as publicly as possible?"

"Other than the fact that you been hurrying in the other direction every time I so much as glanced at you for the past few weeks, and we've only two days left in turn?" Ted asked. "No, none at all."

The smile wavered, and faded. "I've been busy."

"I see." He didn't question it, didn't call it a lie, and somehow that made it worse. If he'd argued with her, she would have had a hundred excuses and defences, but he didn't.

"There's been homework, and Cissy's had her exams – I've been helping her revise – and Lucius keeps making her cry…" Andromeda stumbled on, wondering why she even felt the need to excuse herself at all. It wasn't as though she _owed_ him anything.

"He does seem like the type to," Ted agreed. "Is there a reason she lets him?"

"Oh, she's besotted," Andromeda sighed heavily, finding this subject easier to discuss. "And he takes that for granted. It's not even that he's _mean_ to her so much as that he ignores her whenever it's convenient for him. I keep wanting to set his hair on fire."

"It's terrible when people ignore people who care for them," Ted agreed dryly, and Andromeda found herself blushing again, looking away. He moved on though, seeming uninterested in making her any more uncomfortable. "How well do you know him?"

"Lucius?" Andromeda blinked, unsettled by the sudden change of subjects. "Well, I've always sort of _known_ him – purebloods always have to turn up to each other's weddings, that kind of thing. Never really noticed him until Cissy started following him around though." She glanced up, a sudden thought occurring to her. "Not _jealous_ are you?"

"For your sister, or for you?" Ted snorted at the idea, but didn't laugh. "Look, I've been hearing some things is all. You might want to be careful."

"This from the person who just almost started a duel with him in front of the entire dining room?" Andromeda asked incredulously. "Do you ever take your own advice?"

"I'm not _talking_ about fights. I'm talking about…" Ted broke off, seeming to bite back words, and started again. "I wanted to tell you to be careful not to let anyone pull you in to anything you… didn't want to be pulled into. That's all."

"That's all?" Andromeda repeated. "That's what you dragged me out of breakfast for?"

"More or less, yes." It was Ted's turn to look uncomfortable now. He shifted from foot to foot. "I just wanted to tell you before we all left for summer. You're a good person, and there are things going on that you… probably don't need to be involved in."

"But I won't be seeing him over summer!" Andromeda said, confused and surprised now. "Well, I suppose Cissy might invite him over now and then, but it'll probably be my aunt or mother chaperoning if she does, not me."

"Ah, right. Well. Silly of me to worry then, hey?" There was a strained, stressed note in Ted's voice that didn't leave when he said that, though he smiled at Andromeda. "No need to be concerned if you won't be seeing him at all. Sorry to bother you about it."

"I'll warn Cissy to be careful?" Andromeda offered, feeling that somehow something more was expected of her.

"You do that," Ted agreed. He looked at her, his eyes seeming slightly sad despite his smile, and reached for her suddenly. Andromeda froze, not knowing if he were intending to hug her, or kiss her, but he settled for a rough awkward sort of pat on her shoulder. "You better get back before your sister misses you. Have a good summer."

"I will," Andromeda nodded, still a little bewildered.

"Good. And… be careful. I'll see you again after summer," he said, and patted her again, as though she were a dog who needed petting in order to know everything was going to be all right. "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble with the other Slytherins."

"I can handle Cissy," Andromeda reassured him, already thinking how best to keep her younger sister quiet about the incident. "Don't worry about it." She bit her lip, conscious of the warmth of his hand on her shoulder, wanting to keep him talking but knowing she should get back. "Have a good summer."

"I will." One last pat, and Ted too looked as though he would like to say more. It was a long moment before he turned to walk away.

Andromeda watched him go, readying herself to walk back to the dining room, where she would inevitably have to fend off the questions of the other girls all over again, and where Narcissa would inevitably be in yet another sulk about her being rude to Lucius.

Not something she enjoyed dealing with, but it had to be dealt with. Reluctantly she turned to head back, already readying the answers to the questions in her head. Dealing with curious friends could be so _exhausting_ at times.

At least summer would be more peaceful.


End file.
